


Understanding is a Three-Edged Sword

by FintrumSpeldin



Category: Haikyuu!!, Universal Century Gundam
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternative Universe - Gundam Fusion, Angst, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Giant Space Robots, M/M, Military, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Politics, Science Fiction, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2019-12-31 03:19:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 268,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18301664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FintrumSpeldin/pseuds/FintrumSpeldin
Summary: Shouyou Hinata always dreamed of becoming a pilot — a hero. In the Karasuno mobile suit team, his dream might finally come true... but as the Earth Federation and its space colonies descend into civil war, the line between friend and foe begins to blur and Karasuno are caught in the middle. To survive, they'll have uncover the truth behind a twisted conspiracy, make unlikely allies, and save the world. But first they need to put their differences aside and learn how to work together.Which is easier said than done when Hinata discovers his wingman is to be Tobio Kageyama, the most infuriating man he's ever met.(No Gundam knowledge required!)





	1. Declaration of War

**Author's Note:**

> No Gundam knowledge should be needed to read this fic — just think of it as a space opera with giant robots and the cast of Haikyuu. However, for those that are interested, it takes place about a month after Mobile Suit Gundam Unicorn, in UC 0096.

Today Shouyou would fulfil his dream. Today he would become a pilot at last.

It had been a long road, but it would all be worth it once he reported in to his new posting later that day. His orders had finally arrived a week ago, just when he'd been starting to worry whether he'd ever actually receive an assignment. He'd hit the jackpot, too — he wasn't going to be assigned to some backwater garrison, nor was he going to end up as a boring shuttle pilot. Instead he was going to join a warship: the _Karasuno_.

Which meant he was going to fly a _mobile suit_. For real.

Shouyou studied his reflection in the mirror, standing tall and checking that his military uniform was spotless and without creases. He wanted to make a good impression, after all. His eyes found the new ship's badge, sewed onto his sleeve: a stylised crow on a background of stars. He couldn't help but shiver in anticipation, wondering what the ship would be like, who his teammates would be. It was going to be so awesome! Patrolling the space colonies, defending people from evil pirates and cruel separatists, and working his way up to becoming the best pilot in the fleet. An ace to beat all aces. Just like his heroes from the One Year War.

And then his stomach growled, rudely interrupting his fantasies and reminding him that he needed to eat breakfast before leaving. Collecting up his gear and thankful that he'd packed most of his things the night before, he thundered down the stairs and burst into the kitchen.

His mother and his sister Natsu were both already there, Natsu halfway through a bowl of cereal. Shouyou deposited his bag by the door and strode inside feeling like a king.

"Aww, look at my brave young ensign!" his mother said, beaming at him and moving to envelop him in a tight hug. "You look so handsome in your smart new uniform."

"Careful, Mom, you'll crease it!" he complained, his cheeks reddening. She always made such a fuss.

She let go, patting down his tunic to smooth it out again. "I'm just so proud of you, Shouyou," she said. "I'm sure your father would be proud too. You've worked so hard for this."

Natsu snorted into her bowl. "Yeah, or maybe the military is just so desperate for fresh meat that they finally lowered their standards enough for him to graduate."

"Hey!" Shouyou protested, glaring at her. It wasn't his fault that he'd struggled to find an academy that would accept him. And sure, Yukigaoka wasn't one of the elite academies like Chidoriyama or Kitagawa (which his classmates said were overrated anyway); what mattered was that he'd qualified as a pilot, graduated, and received an assignment at last. So what if it had taken him longer than most?

"Natsu, don't be mean." His mother returned to the counter, where the rice cooker was nearly finished. "Here, Shouyou, have a proper breakfast before you leave. I'm sure you have a busy day ahead so you'll need plenty of energy." She passed him a cup of steaming tea and nodded firmly towards the small table where Natsu was seated. His sister was mostly ignoring him, instead idly scrolling through something on her datapad. It was much fancier than his own basic military model, but as long as his could access information and communicate, he didn't really care.

Even so, he sat down and leaned over, trying to see what she was looking at.

"Mind your own business," she said, switching it off and sticking her tongue out.

Shouyou responded in kind but quickly adopted an innocent expression when their mother came over, bearing a bowl of hot rice topped with an egg and a sprinkling of other toppings. He thanked her and dug in, shovelling rice into his mouth only to end up burning his tongue. "Hot! Hot!"

Natsu burst out laughing. "I can't believe they're going to let this idiot loose in a multi-million credit piece of military hardware. I wouldn't trust him with a vacuum cleaner."

Their mother handed him a glass of water with a look of long-suffering patience. "Maybe let it cool first, Shouyou."

After washing down the rice with some cool water, he scratched his head and nodded sheepishly. "Good idea." It was only then that he spotted the placard leaning against the wall behind Natsu. "What's that?" he asked, sipping at his tea to hide his grin. "What are you protesting this time? Equal rights for guinea pigs maybe?"

Ever since becoming a teenager, Natsu had become something of a crusader. It started with becoming vegetarian, then an obsession with animal rights, which escalated quickly to a hilarious incident where she'd been suspended from school for "liberating" her class's pet snakes. Since space colonies had tightly controlled ecosystems, having a pair of snakes on the loose could cause more trouble than you might think, but fortunately they'd both been found later that same day.

Their mother had far more patience for it than Shouyou did, saying that at least Natsu was channelling her teenage rebellion into something worthwhile, but after that Natsu had jumped from cause to cause. She seemed to enjoy the protesting for its own sake, though somewhere along the line she'd developed a genuine passion for fighting injustice. Now she was sixteen and seriously into it all, talking about going into law or politics as a career and ranting about this or that scandal, the dangerous influence of megacorporations on politics, or — her favourite topic when trying to annoy him — the "corrupt, self-perpetuating military-industrial complex". Half the time he didn't even understand what she was talking about, but then she had inherited the brains in their family, not him.

"Actually," she said, looking down her nose at him haughtily, "I shouldn't tell you. You're part of the establishment now, another mindless zombie who does what he's told without thinking for himself. You sold your soul just to fly a fancy toy around in space."

"Natsu..." Shouyou groaned, rolling his eyes. "You know that's not why I joined the military."

Okay, it was _part_ of it. So what if he thought mobile suits were cool! There was nothing wrong with thinking that. They were the pinnacle of military technology, after all, and the pilots who flew them were the best. Like fighter pilots in the olden days, back on Earth, or chivalrous knights on horseback, or noble samurai with wicked katanas. He'd admired mobile suits ever since seeing heroic movies about them in the One Year War as a kid, even sneaking into the spaceport to try to catch sight of real ones.

But he wasn't ten years old anymore. He'd lived through four wars in his twenty-two years of life and he lived with the consequences. They all did, Natsu included. There probably wasn't anyone living in Phoenix Colony who wouldn't freeze in fear at the sound of the emergency sirens whenever they were tested. Life in space was fragile, after all; you were rarely more than a few metres from cold vacuum.

"You shouldn't joke about it," Shouyou said, a little hurt. "I want to protect people, that's all. Like you and Mom. I don't want any more families to lose someone."

Natsu's face fell and she looked away, embarrassed. "I know." She reached out and squeezed his hand with her own. "I'm sorry, Shouyou. I didn't mean it like that."

Conscious of their mother watching from the other side of the room and knowing how this type of thing could easily set her off, he quickly tried to lighten the mood. "Besides, I bet you're just jealous that I get to fly a mobile suit and you don't." He gave her a smug grin and then stuffed his mouth with some tasty rice. "Why don't you protest about that instead? Free mobile suits for everyone! I'd even support that myself."

Natsu took the hint. Stealing a spoonful of rice from his bowl, she met his challenging stare with one of her own. "Actually, we're protesting for equal rights for spacenoids. You know, since we can't even vote for our own leaders. Who live in luxury down on Earth, safe and secure, eating the food we grow and using the machines we build. Who secretly changed the constitution to screw us over, right back when the Federation was first founded."

"They did what?" he asked around another mouthful of rice, spraying the tabletop with a few stray grains. He swallowed and guiltily swept them into a little pile, hoping his mother hadn't seen. "What conspiracy theory are you on about now, Natsu?"

She groaned and turned to their mother. "Did you drop him on his head as a baby? It's like if it doesn't involve explosions or mobile suits, he doesn't even notice."

With finely tuned instincts, their mother averted the oncoming argument by clearing her throat loudly and checking the clock on the wall. "You better hurry up, Shouyou, unless you want to be late on your first day. Also I was hoping you could drop Natsu off at Memorial Park on your way? She's supposed to meet her friends there."

Shouyou pulled a face. "Aww, do I have to?" But he could hardly say no to his mother's wide-eyed, beseeching expression, so he turned to glare at Natsu instead. "If you make me late, I will never speak to you again."

Natsu grinned. "I think I could live with that."

After wolfing down the rest of his rice and slurping up his tea, Shouyou double-checked he had everything ready to go — including checking his reflection one last time to make sure he hadn't got food stains on his tunic (he'd learned that lesson the hard way) — and then realised he'd lost the keys to his rental car. After a frantic five minutes, he found Natsu standing casually by the door, the keys dangling from her finger. "You left them in the car, moron."

Shouyou's cheeks burned as he snatched the keys back. "Let's just go, okay?"

"Not before you say goodbye," his mother said, shuffling over with her arms outstretched for another hug. She squeezed him tightly, not wanting to let go even as he tried to back up towards the door.

"Mom, I gotta go!"

"I know," she said, her voice warbling, and to his alarm he found she had tears forming in her eyes. "Be safe, won't you? Don't make me worry."

He kissed the top of her head and ducked down to look her in the face. "I promise," he said, wiping away the tear rolling down her cheek with his thumb.

"And you'll come back to visit the first chance you get?"

Shouyou nodded, smiling. "Of course I will. As long as Natsu isn't here." He chuckled as Natsu punched his shoulder. "She'll probably have gotten herself arrested by then anyway." This time she punched him harder, making him flinch. "Okay! Okay, I surrender," he laughed, fending off his sister with one hand. "Have mercy!"

"Some soldier you are," she snorted.

With one last wave to his mother, he climbed into the electric car and switched on the ignition, poking Natsu until she remembered to strap in. "So, where was I supposed to take you?"

"Are you serious, Shouyou?" she laughed incredulously. "Memorial Park! Do you remember where that is or do you also need me to draw you a map?"

"I remember," he grumbled, setting off for the city. At least it was on his way. He checked his watch; he ought to have enough time, as long as traffic wasn't too heavy.

They lived in a small town, some distance away from the city, and at first he spent the drive enjoying the familiar views of the countryside while Natsu played with her datapad. Phoenix Colony was one of the newest colonies, built primarily to house people who had lost their homes when other colonies were destroyed. It was younger even than Natsu was, and compared to the older colonies — some of which were built close to a century ago — it had a slightly artificial feel to it. Like it was too perfectly planned out. Shouyou could imagine the designers laying it all out on a map; a field here, woods there, a stream here between them, then a village there, a town there, and so on. The result was a careful patchwork quilt of landscapes, nothing too far from anything else.

But it was home and he didn't know how long it might be before he'd see it again, so he tried to imprint it all on his memory as he joined the main road and drove towards the city up ahead. Looming above it, like a mountain on the horizon, was the cap of the colony cylinder. The ground rose to meet it halfway before giving up, leaving a flat disk of steel nearly five kilometres across. That was where the spaceport was, where his ship awaited him. He leant forwards and peered up at it through the windscreen, grinning to himself.

Soon.

"Eyes on the road, Shouyou," Natsu said distractedly, without looking up from her datapad.

He sat back and shot her a glare. The road wasn't even that busy. "Can't believe you're spending a beautiful weekend like this one to go shouting at people in a park."

Not that the weather varied much. The climate was pretty tightly controlled. But when he'd been her age, he'd treasured every weekend — blissful freedom from schoolwork and a precious opportunity to play volleyball or be out in the sun somewhere.

"It's important," she replied, glancing up to frown at the rapidly approaching city up ahead. "The status quo doesn't change itself, you know. Right now there's a lot of appetite for reform, thanks to the whole Laplace scandal, and the government is on the back foot."

"The what scandal?"

Natsu raised her eyebrows and shot him a disbelieving look. "You're kidding, right? Don't you ever watch the news?"

He frowned, quickly searching his memory and coming up blank. "Uh... I was kinda busy, Natsu. You know. Training and stuff."

"It was last month, Shouyou," she said, exasperated. "You were probably hanging around on Yukigaoka somewhere, waiting for someone to take pity on you and give you an assignment."

"Yeah, and training!" But now that she mentioned it, he thought she knew what she meant. "You mean the attacks on Dakar and Torrington? I thought that was Neo Zeon?"

Everyone at the base had been talking about it. The assembly building at Dakar had been destroyed in a separatist attack — those Neo Zeon bastards again — and then they'd even been crazy enough to attack a military base in Australia. There had been a lot of damage apparently, but the attackers had all been defeated. It baffled him how Neo Zeon kept popping up time and time again. He thought they'd all been wiped out for good in the last conflict three years ago, but apparently not.

"Is there even any point in me explaining?" she sighed, returning to her datapad. "You'll forget it in five minutes anyway. You've got a memory like a goldfish."

Shouyou didn't really care, so he ignored the temptation to argue and left her to her own devices instead. He was more interested in imagining what his first mission might be. Maybe an anti-piracy operation? There were always criminals lurking around the spacelanes, ready to hijack innocent transports and raid their cargoes. Or maybe they'd be sent to root out some Neo Zeon holdouts somewhere.

They'd entered the city now, passing the outer suburbs and heading into the denser city centre. He remembered roughly where the park was because it was near the city's main gymnasium, but he'd never driven there himself before. He almost ended up going the wrong way before he glanced up out of the windscreen again and righted himself. It was hard to get lost in a space colony; for starters, it wasn't all that big — only 32 kilometres long — but more importantly, by looking up you could see the opposite side of the cylinder and instantly figure out which direction you were going.

He ignored Natsu's knowing glances and followed a promising side street to a boulevard that he recognised. Letting out a small sigh of relief, he followed it all the way to the park.

Or he would have done, if the road hadn't been closed off.

"What the hell?" he murmured.

The road ahead was blocked by a pair of armoured personnel carriers and a line of wary soldiers facing the other way. Not police, but military troops, complete with guns and full combat armour. Diversion signs informed drivers that they needed to make a u-turn but instead Shouyou pulled over, letting the car roll to a stop not far from the barricade.

"Hey, why did you st—" Natsu began, looking up from her datapad. Then she saw it too.

Beyond the barricade was Memorial Park, a large square of greenery surrounded by tall buildings. The city hall occupied one side, a grand building with a line of columns running along its entire front, and blossom-laden trees edged the other three sides. In the centre was a black marble war memorial, just visible over the banners, placards, and heads of the teeming crowd that filled the park. Some sort of makeshift platform or stage had been built next to it, where a handful of people were addressing the crowd using a portable speaker system. Even from within the car, he could hear the shouting, the chants, the jeers.

When he'd heard about the demonstration, he'd assumed it would be a dozen or so scruffy students waving handmade signs around in front of the city hall. Maybe there would be a couple of bored police officers keeping an eye on them.

This was something else entirely.

But then he saw something that made him switch off the engine and climb out of the car, clinging onto the door in astonishment: a mobile suit. _Inside the colony_. They were almost never used inside! And yet there it was, standing at the far side of the park, blocking an entire street by itself.

50 tons of solid armour, powerful thrusters, and high-tech weaponry in humanoid form, towering nearly 20 metres above the crowd, unmoving yet utterly dominating. It was being pelted by sticks, food, and other rubbish, most of it never reaching higher than its sturdy legs. For all the effect the bombardment was having, the mobile suit might have been a giant bronze statue being attacked by angry squirrels. The only thing that gave its true nature away was the smooth turn of its head as it periodically scanned back and forth across the crowd.

It was beautiful.

Shouyou recognised it as an RGM-89, an older model painted navy blue with yellow highlights; he'd piloted one just like it a few times during training. Its battle rifle — a cruiser-scale particle cannon — was still in the recharging slot on its back, but it had its armoured shield out, held in one enormous hand and resting on the ground beside it. It looked awesome, standing tall between the buildings; bulky and powerful and so, _so_ cool. Like an ancient knight in shining armour, standing firm and unyielding before an invading army.

"Uh, this is new," Natsu said, surveying the scene with surprise. Then she grabbed her placard from the back seat and trotted over to the barricade.

"Natsu, wait!" he called in alarm, slamming the car door shut and running to catch up. Two of the soldiers manning the barricade heard them approach and turned around, rifles raised; Natsu jerked to a stop with an "eep!" of surprise and Shouyou slowly walked up to stand in front of her, his hands held up, palms out, to show he was no threat. He eyed the dark muzzles of the soldiers' rifles warily.

It was just as well he was wearing his uniform. Even so, he tensed up, muscles contracting by themselves as though they thought they could repel bullets.

"Hey, what's going on here?" he asked as the two soldiers lowered their rifles and came over. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the noise of the crowd; the protesters sounded angry... and perhaps a little frightened. As well as their shouts, there were sounds of glass breaking and heavy objects striking metal and concrete. It was enough to set his heart pounding and send adrenaline shooting through his body, making him jittery.

Why was the army here? Had there been an attack?

"ID please," the nearest soldier demanded, holding out his hand. Shouyou fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his battered military ID card and handing it over.

The trooper reached up to his helmet, flicking the visor open to see the ID better. He looked even younger than Shouyou; probably still a teenager. Despite being decked out in combat armour and fully armed, he looked worried. Scared, even.

"Ensign Shouyou Hinata," he read, handing the ID back. "I'm sorry, sir, but you can't come this way."

"Why? What's going on?" Shouyou asked, completely confused. He glanced over at the mobile suit. "Why is there a _mobile suit_ inside the colony?"

The other trooper moved away, pressing one hand to the side of her head; probably receiving some sort of radio transmission. The first soldier frowned at them, puzzled. "Haven't you heard?"

"Heard what?" Shouyou said. He realised his hands were still raised and let them fall. "Has there been an attack?"

The trooper shook his head. "No sir. It's crazy, martial law's been declared. Nobody really knows what's going on, but there's protests and riots everywhere. We were ordered into the colony and told to restore order."

"Wait. Martial law?" Natsu asked, her face ashen. Her placard dropped to the ground, forgotten. "Why?"

"Hell if I know," the trooper replied, shrugging. He turned back to Shouyou. "You better get moving and report in. Maybe you'll find out more than me."

"I've got to find my friends," Natsu said anxiously, darting through the hole in the cordon left by the two troopers. "I've got to let them know!"

" _Natsu!_ Wait, don't — " Shouyou sighed. "Aww, dammit. Now I'm gonna be late." With an apologetic look at the two soldiers, he followed her into the crowd. He thought he caught a glimpse of her red hair off to the left in the direction of city hall, weaving through the tightly packed throng of people, and tried to thread his own way through. He got buffeted around by the people jostling each other and quickly lost sight of her.

"Excuse me," he said, pushing between a pair of sweaty protesters, and then jumped straight up in the air, trying to see over everyone's heads to find his sister. "Natsu! Come back!"

Just brilliant. His mother would kill him if anything happened to her. Natsu was just a kid — she shouldn't be in a place like this. What the hell had she been thinking?

After being elbowed in the back and having his toes trampled on twice, Shouyou realised he was getting nowhere fast. Looking around desperately, he caught sight of one of the trees nearby and had an idea. Shoving his way over towards it, he leapt up and grabbed on to one of the lowest branches, pulling himself up to crouch on it. It gave him enough height to stare over the top of the crowd and for the first time he truly comprehended just how many people were packed into such a small space. There had to be thousands of demonstrators! He couldn't even see a scrap of grass; it was as though the park had been carpeted by a heaving mass of bodies, sprouting signs at random points and chanting slogans as they were riled up by the leaders speaking from the platform in the centre.

He scanned the crowd, looking for Natsu's distinctive red hair while he fished out his datapad to call her. He frowned at it in dismay, realising it had no connection. What the hell was going on? Why were the communication networks down?

There. A momentary gap opened up between two people to reveal a sliver of red hair. It had to be her.

Before he could move, a flash of light caught his attention: the mobile suit was on fire. Even as he watched, Shouyou saw another projectile hurtle out of the crowd towards it, smashing against a leg and erupting in flames. He almost toppled off the branch in shock.

The crowd fell silent, freezing with surprise, and then it surged back into action, its volume and fury redoubled as panic broke out. Above it all, a booming voice blasted out of the mobile suit's external loudspeaker:

" _This is your only warning_ ," the voice said. " _Stand down immediately or we will have no choice but to use force._ "

He had to find Natsu. He had to find her _right now_.

Shouyou's heart was pounding in his ears as he dropped back to the ground, almost as loud as the frightened cries of the crowd as sounds of violence echoed across the park. The crack of gunshots made him duck instinctively, but he forced his way relentlessly through the mass of people towards the spot he thought he'd seen Natsu. He stumbled as a man shoved back at him, wide-eyed in fear as he tried to escape in the other direction, and he felt the tremor in the ground as the mobile suit began to move.

"Natsu! NATSU!" he yelled, his voice lost amongst the screams and the terror. His own fear rose up his throat, choking him, as he searched frantically for any sign of her; a glimpse of her bright clothing, a flash of red hair, the sound of her voice calling his name. Anything!

_There._

He shouldered his way past a screaming woman and wriggled between the tightly pressed bodies to reach Natsu, grabbing her arm. She turned a wide-eyed look of fear on him and struck out instinctively, hitting him on the arm, but then she realised who it was.

"Shouyou!" she cried, clinging on to him and burying her face against his chest.

"We've got to get out of here!" he shouted back at her. "Hold on tight!"

And then, as if things couldn't get any worse, the emergency sirens began their mournful wail. The sound was like an icy dagger being plunged into his gut, stealing his breath and short-circuiting his brain. The sirens were deafening, so loud and piercing that they even drowned out the cries of the terrified protesters and the sporadic gunfire from the soldiers. Instinctively, he glanced up, seeing the flashing red lights running up and down the giant transparent panels on the far side of the colony, the ones that let the sunlight in.

Shelter. They had to get to a shelter.

The lights and sirens overrode everything else. Their meaning had been programmed into him, into every spacenoid, from a young age. _When the sirens sing and the red lights flash, drop everything and to the shelters dash, because shelter means safety_. The instructions were hammered into them as children by practice drills at school and eerie educational programmes presented by cartoon characters. The fear that their fragile bubble of air and life could one day get punctured was always in the back of their minds, and the emergency shelters were their only sanctuaries.

" _A curfew has been declared_ ," the mobile suit boomed above the chaos. " _All civilians are required to report to their nearest shelter and await the all clear._ "

Shouyou had lost his bearings, unable to see past the people surrounding him; he wasn't tall enough. He couldn't even see the trees anymore. Not that it mattered — he was being pushed along by the tide of the crowd, which was stampeding like a herd of startled animals. He clung on desperately to Natsu, keeping her close and shielding her from the accidental blows of the people pushing past as best he could, even as they pressed in on him from all sides, squeezing the air out of him.

He tripped on something and fell, his heart in his mouth, and cried out in pain when someone stood on his leg. The kerb of the road was under him, digging painfully into his arms and side, and he'd scraped his palms on the rough concrete. Terrified of being trampled, he grabbed on to someone in front and used them to help scramble back to his feet. Natsu was screaming, having nearly been carried away, but he caught her outstretched hand just in time.

They had to get out of this crowd or they'd be crushed. Looking up, Shouyou saw the sign for a bank between people's heads; it was cracked and flickering, but right then it was like a beacon of hope.

He made his way towards it, fighting against the tide and pulling Natsu along behind him, and almost cried with relief when his hand hit a solid wall. Following it, he arrived at the bank's entrance alcove and ducked into it; the doors were locked tight with security shutters pulled down over them, but it gave him and Natsu space to breath.

"Are you okay?" he shouted, grasping her shoulders and quickly checking her over. Natsu looked bruised and dazed, but he couldn't see any injuries. She gave him a shaky nod, but the confident young protester from earlier was gone; now she looked exactly like the terrified sixteen year old girl she was, trembling in his arms with pinprick pupils.

Shouyou hugged her close and turned his back on the crowd, trying to shield her from the chaos, but he kept watch over his shoulder as he fought to catch his breath and force his mind to think. He was a soldier, dammit! He'd been trained to stay calm in an emergency. But right now everything he'd learnt had evaporated from his brain; all he could think of was getting Natsu to safety. What if there really was an attack? Particle beams could erupt through the ground at any moment, puncturing the colony cylinder like a balloon and sucking the air out — along with anyone unlucky enough to be caught nearby.

Natsu. She was his priority. He could feel the damp from her tears soaking through his tunic, feel her sobs wracking her body. He couldn't let anything happen to her. That was his job, the reason he wore his uniform: to defend people from danger.

The small ramp up to the bank's doors gave him a slightly better vantage point and he could see the throng of people was beginning to thin out. There were shelters around the park, but with so many people, they would be packed tight. Shouyou wasn't ordinarily claustrophobic, but having nearly had the life crushed out of him, he shuddered at the thought of people pressing in on him from all sides again.

He had to get her away from the park. Maybe if he could find his car, he could drive them away, find another shelter...

"Natsu?" he said, his voice getting hoarse from having to shout all the time. He pried his sister off him and held her steady. "Natsu, we need to go. Are you good to move?"

She blinked up at him uncomprehendingly through tear-filled eyes and he pasted on the most reassuring smile he could manage.

"C'mon, Natsu," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it. "I need you to be brave just a little longer, okay?"

Shouyou didn't think she was really listening, but she nodded all the same and followed when he stepped out of the alcove, heading in the direction he thought he'd left his car. The mobile suit had moved into the centre of the park, towering over everything and sweeping its powerful spotlights across the remaining stragglers. It lit up a lot of people who had fallen, untidy bodies littering the grass; some lay still and others crawled or twitched feebly. A handful of military medics and other soldiers were going from one to the next, trying to offer what help they could. The emergency lights flashing above cast everything with a reddish tint, and with the scattered debris and the injured people everywhere, the park seemed more like the aftermath of a bloody battle.

He turned away, unable to look anymore.

" _Proceed to the nearest shelter at once_ ," the mobile suit boomed from behind him. " _This is an emergency situation_."

The walls of the buildings around the park gave way to the main boulevard and Shouyou led Natsu over to the barricade, where the armoured cars had weathered the flood of panicking protesters. There were more bodies here, soldiers and civilian alike, probably crushed in the stampede or shot in the panic; he tried to block Natsu's sight of them.

"Don't look," he told her, but he knew she'd already seen them.

Several soldiers watched them warily with their weapons raised, including one manning the gun on the top of the nearest armoured car, but they relaxed a little when they saw his uniform and they didn't try to stop him. By the side of the vehicle, a medic was working frantically to resuscitate an injured woman, and further away, a tall guy in shorts and a t-shirt was arguing with an officer.

Shouyou ignored them all, focused on his only goal of getting Natsu to safety. His car was up ahead, with the windscreen and two side windows smashed. He reached into his pocket, fumbling for his keys... which weren't there. "Shit!" He slammed his hand down on the roof in frustration, wondering what the hell to do. There weren't many people around at all now; most of them must have gone into the shelters or simply fled the violence of the park. He spotted a public shelter, further down the road, but the blinking emergency light above its airlock hatch was red.

Full — no entry.

A hand tugged his sleeve and he turned to see Natsu pointing through the shattered driver's side window. The keys were still in the ignition.

If he weren't so relieved, he would have laughed. Pulling open the door, he brushed away the worst of the glass and switched on the engine, waiting for Natsu to get in.

When someone banged on his door, he nearly jumped out of his skin. It was the guy he'd seen earlier, in shorts and t-shirt. Running gear, he realised.

"I need to commandeer your car!" the man shouted, ducking to look through the broken window. His scowl was intimidating despite his youth, but he was breathing hard and had a wild look to his eyes that was more panic than anger.

"What? No way!" Shouyou shouted back. He glanced over to check that Natsu was in her seat and then reversed to turn the car around, looking over his shoulder to see out the rear window. When he looked forward again, the guy was standing right in front of the car, both arms outstretched to block his path. "What the hell are you doing? Get out of the way!"

"I'm military! A pilot!" the guy said desperately. "I need to get to the spaceport!"

Shouyou was tempted to drive on anyway, figuring that the man would get out of the way soon enough if the car started moving, but there was a stubborn set to his jaw and a determined look in his eye. 

So instead Shouyou leaned his head out of the window. "Move aside! I need to get my sister to a shelter!"

The man's arms dropped but he didn't budge. "What about after?"

Shouyou hadn't thought that far ahead. He probably ought to report in once he was sure Natsu was safe in a shelter. "Fine, whatever," he said. Anything to get them moving. "Get in. Quickly."

Wasting no time, the guy yanked open the back door and dived in.

"Go!" he said, like Shouyou needed the encouragement.

Gunning the accelerator, the tyres squealed as the car set off down the boulevard. "Look out for an open shelter," Shouyou told the others, alternating between checking for the telltale green light of a public shelter and weaving around the abandoned vehicles that littered the road.

"Do you know what's going on?" the pilot in the backseat asked breathlessly. "Why did the sirens go off?"

"I don't know! Just look for a shelter," Shouyou snapped back. Then at that very moment, he thought he saw one: a glimpse of green down a side street. He slammed on the brakes, nearly launching the pilot through the smashed windscreen, and backed up.

Yes! Never had he been so relieved to see a flashing light. "C'mon!" he said, getting out of the car and moving around the other side to help Natsu. She stumbled out with stiff, jerky movements and was visibly shaking, so he held her arm to help her onto her feet. When she nearly fell as her knees gave way, he simply scooped her up in his arms and carried her.

"I'm okay..." she said weakly, shifting in embarrassment, but Shouyou shook his head.

"Just hold on," he told her. "Nearly there."

Most buildings had their own private shelters underneath, designed for the building's occupants, but public areas — especially in crowded places like the city centre — had to have shelters available for anyone to use. Ordinarily, you could walk right by and not even realise they were there; just a sturdy door with an inconspicuous control panel and a dormant light above. Only when the colony went into emergency mode did they come to life, their lights flashing, the outer doors opening automatically, and emitting a distinctive beeping sound to indicate their presence.

This close, the bright flashing light dazzled him and Shouyou could hear the insistent beep even over the sirens. He ran inside the airlock, slamming the big button to cycle it with his elbow, and panted as he tried to catch his breath.

_Shelter means safety._

Since there was equal pressure on both sides, the airlock cycled quickly, the inner door opening only a couple of seconds later, and Shouyou hurried down the ramp inside to the shelter below. The lighting was dim and it was full of people sitting on the rows of benches within, all looking up at him with a mixture of surprise and fear.

"What's happening?" one woman asked him, intercepting him as he entered. "Is it a drill? Are we in danger?"

Someone else tried to barge past her to get his attention. "Why is there no signal?"

"You're a soldier, right? Surely you must know something!" an older man said as everyone began to huddle forward.

Shouyou ignored them all to set Natsu onto the nearest bench, propping her up with his hands. "Are you okay?" he asked her. Natsu nodded, but she pressed one hand to her stomach and the other to her mouth as if about to throw up. He squeezed her shoulders and caught her gaze, making sure she was focused on him before speaking again. "Breathe, okay? Nice and slow. In and out. That's it."

"Don't crowd them!" someone said loudly behind him, and he turned to find a woman standing there with a fluorescent jacket on: a shelter warden, one of the volunteers who took on responsibility for each shelter in an emergency.

Once Natsu was breathing more normally, he stood up. "Her name's Natsu Hinata," he told the warden. "Will you look after her? I need to go report in."

The warden looked down at Natsu and nodded. "Of course. But we're all confused — nobody's told us what's happening and communications are down. What's it like outside?"

Shouyou glanced towards the door. "Quiet. I don't... I don't think the colony's under attack, but there were soldiers at the park and someone threw explosives at the mobile suit. People got hurt. I'm not sure what it's all about. The soldiers said something about martial law and a curfew."

"Curfew?" she said, frowning. "I don't understand."

He shrugged. "I'm sorry. That's all I know." Crouching down again, he grasped Natsu's hand. "Stay here, okay?" he told her. "Stay safe. The warden will look after you. I need to go find out what's happening, okay?"

"No!" she said, shaking her head quickly and grabbing his arm. "No, Shouyou, stay here with me! Please! It might be dangerous outside."

He gave her a little smile and tugged at his tunic, only then noticing it had got torn at some point. "That's why I have to go. To protect you from the danger." Ruffling her hair, he disentangled himself and hurried over to the door, activating the airlock again. As it opened, he glanced back; Natsu was on her feet, clutching the warden for support, and staring at him fearfully. With a wave and another smile, he shut the hatch behind him.

And then his smile dropped and he leant back against the closed hatch, letting out a long, unsteady breath through his mouth as the airlock cycled. Part of him was desperate to turn around and go back inside, to stay with his sister, to make sure she would be safe. He didn't want to leave her behind.

But he couldn't do anything cowering inside an emergency shelter. Other people might need his help, or there might really be an attack after all. Terrorists maybe. Or Neo Zeon agents on the loose. And Natsu would be safe in the shelter. She _had_ to be.

Even so, Shouyou had to give himself a few more seconds before he was ready to go back out onto the street. He was shaking badly with all the adrenaline his pounding heart was pumping through him; he held out his sweaty hand, trying to keep it steady, but it trembled so badly he had to ball it into a fist and press it against his forehead. All his senses were in overdrive, overwhelming him with sensation; the piercing sirens were like nails being driven into ears and he could smell smoke on the air — fire. Something was burning in the distance. Maybe just an accident — a stove left unattended in the rush to reach the shelters.

Maybe.

He swallowed the bile in his throat and forced himself to stand straight. What sort of soldier was he if he fell at the first hurdle? He couldn't fall apart now. Putting one foot in front of the other, he strode out onto the street.

His car wasn't there.

"That bastard stole my car!" he muttered in stunned disbelief. "He stole my _car!_ "

Running first to one end of the side street and then the other, just to make sure, Shouyou confirmed his suspicions: his car was gone. He couldn't have been in the shelter for more than a couple of minutes but that stupid, scowling pilot couldn't even wait that long. Maybe the guy wasn't even a pilot? For all Shouyou knew, he could have been lying; maybe he was just some crazy guy off the streets. He might not even have a driving licence!

It was too late now.

Shouyou tried to remember what his academy instructors had taught him about adapting to the situation and improvising, not letting fear and panic take control. But what the hell was he supposed to do now? Public transport was shut down and there was nobody else in sight to help him.

Letting out a scream of frustration, Shouyou kicked the kerb — stubbing his toes painfully — and limped down to the next road, racking his brain for any ideas. Could he borrow another car? Maybe someone had left their keys in the ignition like he'd done. He started peering through the windows of the vehicles he passed but it didn't look like anyone else had made the same mistake.

Then his eyes landed on a bicycle, left leaning against a lamppost.

"Sorry, I need to borrow this," he mumbled to its absent owner, hopping on and pedalling down the road towards the spaceport.

It was slower than a car, but cycling also let him weave in between the abandoned vehicles and jammed intersections with ease. Shouyou stood rather than sat, pedalling like his life depended on it, and before long he was out of the city and panting as he rode up the hills at the end of the colony cylinder. The sirens cut out halfway there, leaving his own ragged breathing and the rapid thump of his pulse in his ears as the only accompaniment to his frantic journey. Sweat trickled down his neck and matted his hair to his face, but the higher he got the weaker the gravity became, making his progress easier, and he made it to the end without stopping.

The road led to a large building built against the colony wall: the spaceport entry terminal. He stopped and let the bike clatter to the ground, leaning over with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. From here, almost halfway to the axis of the cylinder, he could see all of Phoenix Colony laid out before him at once: three long strips of land alternating with three huge transparent panels, letting sunlight in from the giant mirrors outside. At the far end was a matching wall like the one rising behind him. It was spooky to see everything so quiet, so devoid of life, especially now that the sirens had fallen silent. But the red emergency lights continued to flash, indicating danger, and he could see smoke billowing up amongst the wispy clouds. Any fires would be burning out of control, since the emergency services would be in the shelters like everyone else.

Straightening up and wiping sweat out of his eyes, Shouyou turned back to the spaceport. Unlike everywhere else he'd seen, there were people here: more soldiers, apparently guarding the entrance.

And then, with a jolt of shock and fury, he spotted his car thief — kneeling on the ground with his hands on his head as a trio of soldiers surrounded him.

If the thief was here, then Shouyou's car ought to be around too. He found it abandoned halfway to the entrance, the engine still idling, and reached inside to switch it off. As he did, he caught a glimpse of something that had fallen down beside the driver's seat — a wallet. Flicking it open, he discovered the ID of the car thief — Ensign Tobio Kageyama.

Grabbing his kit bag from the back, Shouyou marched over to where Kageyama was being held.

"You stole my car!" he yelled.

One of the soldiers, a sergeant, moved to intercept him. "Identification please, sir," he asked. When Shouyou handed his over, the sergeant added, "You know this man?"

"Do I know him?" Shouyou fumed. Kageyama was surprised to see him if the clueless look on his stupid face was anything to go by. "I offered to give him a ride here and in return he stole my car!"

"I thought you'd changed your mind and that you were going to stay in the shelter," Kageyama protested sullenly.

Handing Shouyou's ID back, the sergeant poked Kageyama with his boot. "He claims he's a military pilot, but he has no ID and he's not exactly dressed the part."

"I am!" Kageyama insisted angrily. "If you'd just contact —"

"Oi, that's enough demands from you, sunshine," one of the other soldiers said, prodding him in the back with her rifle. Kageyama let out a growl of frustration but he did as she said and stopped talking.

Shouyou wrapped his fingers around Kageyama's wallet in his pocket. He decided to let the guy suffer a bit longer and turned to the sergeant instead. "Can you tell me what's going on? Why did the sirens go off? Is the colony under attack?"

"No, there's no attack," the sergeant said, and Shouyou's legs almost gave way as a wave of relief swept through him. At least that was something — the shelters weren't in danger.

"So what's happening?" he asked. "What's all this talk about curfews and martial law, and why are communications down?"

The sergeant scratched his chin and shrugged. "All I know is that we were ordered here to secure the entrance to the spaceport. All civilians are meant to wait in their shelters until further notice, and we're supposed to detain any who disobey."

"Um, I heard that communications were shut down to stop people organising any resistance," the third soldier said timidly. "Maybe they found a cell of Neo Zeon agents here?"

"Here? What would they want on Phoenix Colony?" the sergeant asked incredulously.

Shouyou shook his head; they were getting sidetracked. "So it's all just about securing the colony? The sirens were just to get people to go to the shelters?"

"I guess," the sergeant said, shrugging again. "It's not like the idiots in charge tell us anything." His eyes landed on the rank insignia on Shouyou's collar and he coughed awkwardly. "Meaning no disrespect, Ensign."

"I need to go report to my ship," Shouyou said, waving him off. Then he pulled Kageyama's ID from his pocket and threw it into Kageyama's face with a flick of his wrist, making the pilot flinch. "Here, you dropped this while you were busy stealing my car." Giving him a fierce scowl, he added, "You're lucky I've got more of a conscience than you do."

Leaving Kageyama to the soldiers, Shouyou headed inside the spaceport building. This outer part was mostly full of fast food places, overpriced coffee shops, and stores selling last minute supplies for forgetful travellers. Now they were all deserted, but with all the lights still on, doors open, and the pop music continuing to play over the PA system, it all felt strangely suspenseful. Like everyone was playing some sort of prank on him, just waiting for the signal to jump out from their hiding places and spring a surprise birthday party on him.

Shouyou hurried past it all, through the abandoned security checkpoint and over to one of the large elevators that led up to the actual spacedock in the zero gravity part of the colony above.

Maybe things would make more sense once he reached his ship and reported in. Hopefully someone there would be able to explain what was going on, explain why it was necessary to send in troops against ordinary protesters.

Against people like Natsu.

As he waited impatiently for the doors to open, bouncing from foot to foot, he heard steps running up behind him: Kageyama again, red in the face and scowling.

"Let you go, did they?" Shouyou said, grimacing. "I was kinda hoping they'd just arrest you for being annoying. And, you know, the whole car theft thing."

"Sorry," Kageyama huffed, scrunching up his face as though forcing the word out had resulted in actual physical pain.

Shouyou gave him a contemptuous look and turned away again. "Whatever."

The elevator ride up to the docking bays made Shouyou's guts churn even more than usual. The gradual disappearance of gravity combined with the events he'd witnessed left him running through old breathing exercises he hadn't needed in a long time. Kageyama kept giving him weird looks, but he kept his mouth shut. Perhaps he was unwilling to break the eerie silence, like Shouyou was. The whole colony seemed so frozen and empty — like a ghost ship from one of those spooky stories, abandoned in the middle of a meal, the crew never to be seen again.

The docking bays were in the zero-g part of the colony, the 'cap' of the cylinder. Getting around wasn't so hard for Shouyou, whose uniform boots had magnetic soles that helped anchor him to the decks, but Kageyama had to navigate by using handholds and kicking off strategic surfaces. Even so, he managed without problems; clearly he was used to it.

They boarded the nearest transport pod and called up the controls to punch in their destinations. Shouyou scrolled down the list, selecting the _Karasuno_ with a jab of his finger. Then he turned to glare at Kageyama. "What about you, Car Thief?" he said. "Where to?"

Kageyama, who had been watching over his shoulder, was giving him a strange look. "You're posted to the _Karasuno_?" 

"Yeah." Despite everything, an eager smile crept across Shouyou's face as he sat down and strapped in. It would be a relief to see it at last after everything he'd been through.

"That's my ship too," Kageyama said, reaching past to hit the confirm button.

Shouyou's stomach lurched as the transport pod accelerated away; he was glad he hadn't eaten anything, because between the motion of the pod and the sour taste in his mouth, he might have thrown up. "You're sure?" he demanded.

"Of course I'm sure," Kageyama said, narrowing his eyes. "Are you?"

Instead of answering, Shouyou turned to display the crow logo on his arm. Kageyama grimaced at the sight.

"What were you even doing at the park?" Shouyou asked him. "Especially dressed like that."

Kageyama looked down at himself and raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You mean dressed in running clothes? Gee, I wonder."

Shouyou clenched his fists and ground his teeth. He normally got on with just about everyone; he could be friendly even to people he didn't particularly like. But he doubted he'd ever met anyone as frustrating as Kageyama in his entire life. "Excuse me for assuming you weren't stupid enough to go jogging through a riot. I'll know better for next time."

"It wasn't a riot at first," Kageyama said angrily. Then he seemed to deflate, lowering his gaze to frown at the floor. "I didn't know there was going to be a protest. When I got there, it was just really crowded. I tried to leave again when people started smashing windows and stuff, but by then the soldiers had arrived, penning everyone inside the park. It was all I could do to not get crushed in the crowd."

For a moment — a _brief_ moment — Shouyou felt a stab of sympathy for him. Shouyou had picked up quite a few bruises himself from the crowd and his leg ached from when it had been trampled on, and that was after only a couple of minutes. If Kageyama had been stuck in the middle of it all for a lot longer, unable to escape, it can't have been easy.

"Why would they try to trap everyone in the park?" Shouyou asked. He massaged his temples, trying to ease away an oncoming headache. "Why were there even soldiers there at all? Let alone a mobile suit."

Deep inside, the icy shock that had gripped him since the park was giving way to the first stirrings of red hot anger. None of it made any sense to him. Most colonies had a barracks or small garrison for defence, but he'd never heard of their soldiers being used for riot control before. Not outside wartime, at least.

Anyone ought to be able to see that deploying armoured cars and a damn _mobile suit_ against some ordinary protesters was overkill. Sure, maybe there were a lot of them, and maybe some of them were troublemakers — smashing windows and scrawling graffiti on walls or something. But the police could deal with that sort of thing. Sending in troops? No wonder everyone panicked! If he hadn't been there, Natsu could have been hurt.

She could have ended up like those bodies, lying still on the trampled grass.

Kageyama had no answer for him; he simply shrugged. "It makes no sense to me either. I'm technically on leave — I was due to report for duty today, after my run."

"Me too," Shouyou said, sighing. He had to calm down. Getting worked up wasn't going to help. The military weren't stupid — there had to be a good reason for it all, right? The commanders had to know what they were doing.

Kageyama gave Shouyou a quick glance, almost shy. "Was your sister okay?"

"I hope so," Shouyou said. "She wasn't hurt, just in shock, I think." He took out his datapad, wondering if communications were back yet, but there was still no signal. "I hope she's safe in that shelter."

Neither of them spoke after that, and Shouyou initially occupied himself with inspecting his uniform. His attempts to keep it clean at breakfast had all been in vain; now it was torn, dirty, and sweaty from his uphill bike ride. Dammit. Hopefully he wouldn't get into too much trouble, given everything that was going on, but it wasn't exactly the first day he'd been hoping for.

He leant back, sighing, and let his eyes rest on the yellow warning signs above the window opposite.

_Remember to use the seatbelts provided in zero gravity zones._

_Do not attempt to open transport pod doors while the pod is in motion._

_In case of decompression, emergency breathing apparatus can be found under the seats._

After a minute, the words began to swim in and out of focus as his mind travelled back to the park. All those people injured — maybe even dead. Some might have been hurt in the rush to clear the park, people running over each other in panic, but Shouyou had definitely heard gunshots too.

Soldiers were meant to protect civilians. Not shoot them.

"I don't even get it," Kageyama suddenly said. "Why would they attack the mobile suit? It's not like they could even scratch it."

Shouyou blinked, trying to banish the images from his mind. "...what are you talking about?"

Kageyama was hunched over with his elbows on his knees, pulling the seatbelt tight against his shoulders. He was fidgeting, stretching each of his fingers in turn with the other hand.

"Those explosions," he said. "I couldn't see, but I heard them. Saw the fire afterwards, burning on the armour. Maybe it would leave a scorchmark, but that's all. So what was the point? If the protesters hadn't done that, then none of it would have happened, right?"

"I don't know," Shouyou said, tilting his head back and closing his eyes in exhaustion. He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up in a world that made sense again. "I guess things just got out of hand."

Closing his eyes was a mistake, because the scene at the park started replaying on the insides of his eyelids. He opened them again and focused on the warning signs once more, reading them over and over.

They were still sitting in awkward silence when the transport pod slowed to a halt and its door slid open.

Through the large window lining the opposite wall was a warship. It reminded Shouyou somehow of a shark, sleek and dangerous with two long prongs protruding from the front like enormous jaws.

"That must be our ship," Kageyama said, and although he still wore his usual grumpy expression, there was a trace of awe in his voice. But then his frown deepened. "What's wrong with it?"

"What do you mean what's wrong with it?" Shouyou asked, confused. He thought it looked fantastic — everything he'd imagined and more. "It's perfect!"

"It's got holes in it!"

As Shouyou looked more closely, he realised Kageyama was right. There were square holes in the hull in places, exposing piping and cables and structural beams. It was like seeing someone's skin pulled back, revealing their bones and organs. Elsewhere, one of the turrets was missing, and there were several shiny patches of bare steel that hadn't been painted over yet. "Is it being repaired?" he wondered.

There was only one way to know for sure, so they pushed off and floated down the corridor, heading to the flexible boarding tube that connected the _Karasuno_ to the pier. There they found a military police sentry arguing with a young lieutenant with ash blond hair as a stream of technicians and engineers floated past, clutching tools and grumbling amongst themselves.

Shouyou realised too late that he was just out of reach from the handgrip. For a moment he thought he was going to float straight past and collide with the sentry, but Kageyama caught him by his tunic and yanked him to a halt.

"Dumbass," Kageyama muttered under his breath.

"Who the hell are you two?" the red-faced sentry snapped, rounding on them. "As if I didn't have enough to deal with!"

Behind him, the lieutenant raised a curious eyebrow at them both. "Have you two been in a fight?"

"No sir," Kageyama replied. "Um, it's a long story."

By now the sentry was pointing his rifle a little too close for comfort, so Shouyou raised his hands and began explaining rapidly. "We were in the park and there was a protest but then something exploded on the mobile suit and all hell broke loose with soldiers shooting and people trampling each other and —"

"Okay, okay, calm down," the lieutenant said, interposing himself between the sentry's gun and Shouyou. "Let's start at the beginning. Who are you two?"

They both snapped to attention and saluted.

"Ensign Tobio Kageyama, reporting for duty!"

"Ensign Shouyou Hinata, reporting for duty!"

"Dressed like that?" the sentry fumed. He held out his hand. "IDs, now!"

Shouyou handed his over. Kageyama plucked his from where he'd been keeping it in his waistband, but he fumbled his grip on it and it floated away. Shouyou snatched it out of the air and handed it back with a mocking grin, which only grew wider as Kageyama flushed scarlet.

While the sentry scanned their IDs with his datapad, then holding them closer to his face as though trying to check for a forgery, the lieutenant cleared his throat. "You picked a bad time to report in," he said. "You're our new pilots, right?"

"That's right!" Shouyou said, puffing out his chest.

The sentry gave him their IDs back. "This is all highly irregular."

"In more ways that you can imagine, Sergeant," the lieutenant said wearily. "Yet here we are." Mustering a smile, he turned his attention back to Shouyou and Kageyama. "I'm Koushi Sugawara, second in command of the mobile suit team aboard the _Karasuno_. I wish I could give you a proper welcome aboard, but things are a bit hectic right now. Come on, we'd better get moving. They'll be closing the hatches shortly. You can explain what happened on the way."

Following him aboard, Shouyou explained what had happened in the park, with Kageyama butting in now and then with corrections or clarifications. Before he knew it, Shouyou was already lost, quickly overwhelmed by his new surroundings. It was a labyrinth of grey corridors, ladders, and passageways, with new faces rushing past wearing preoccupied expressions. Wires trailed from exposed panels in the ceiling and walls, while missing deck plates revealed pipes and circuitry still being hastily worked on by technicians. Through one large doorway he caught a glimpse of the mobile suit hangar, a dim, cavernous space echoing with metallic clangs and the sound of welding.

"I think you two should come with me to the bridge," Sugawara said after they'd finished their account. His face was pale and he was biting at his lip, staring off into the distance. He shook himself and pushed off, heading down yet another corridor, indistinguishable from the rest.

"What's going on, sir?" Shouyou asked when they floated past yet another set of exposed circuit boards. "Is the ship damaged?"

"The _Karasuno_ is being refitted. Everything was due to be complete by the end of the week so we could start working her up to full readiness," Sugawara said, looking over his shoulder as they floated up a ladder. "But that was before everything changed."

A steady vibration was running through the ship, which Shouyou could feel whenever he touched the bulkheads or grabbed one of the railings that ran along the corridors, designed to help people get around in zero-g. Did that mean the engines were warming up? Periodically, inscrutable messages would be broadcast over the ship's PA system, instructing this or that person to head to somewhere or report to someone.

"And this is the bridge," Sugawara said as a sturdy hatch slid open.

Shouyou had been on plenty of ships before, civilian and military, but this was the first time he'd ever been on the bridge of one of them. The spacious room was bustling with activity, filled with the sounds of computers beeping and muffled radio calls being answered by harried operators. Around the walls, large viewpanels simulated windows by giving them a view of the dock outside the ship, while other monitors showed sensor readings and status readouts. One large panel to the left showed an outline of the ship; most of it was green, but there were several sections highlighted in yellow.

"Suga, good timing. Have all the dockworkers disembarked?"

At the back of the bridge, on a raised platform, were two large chairs. The one on the right was empty, but the one on the left was occupied by an earnest, bespectacled man. He was the one who had spoken. Standing next to him was a well-built officer in an orange pilot suit, his helmet clipped to his back. His expression was grim until he caught sight of Shouyou and Kageyama.

"Wait," the pilot said, giving them a quizzical glance. "Who are these two?"

"Our newbies," Sugawara said, shrugging. "Ensigns Hinata and Kageyama. I picked them up just as we offloaded the last of the refit techs." Before anyone could ask, he went on to add, "There's a good reason for their current state, but you're not going to like hearing it."

The man in the seat gave them a quick smile. "Welcome aboard, gentlemen," he said. "I'm Commander Takeda, the first officer." Gesturing at the pilot, he said, "This is Lieutenant Commander Daichi Sawamura, in command of our mobile suit team. Why don't we — "

"GOD DAMMIT!"

Everyone jumped as a newcomer stomped onto the bridge and slammed his fist against the bulkhead. Shouyou's eyes widened as he spotted the rank insignia and realised this must be his new commanding officer, Captain Ukai.

Ukai was... not what Shouyou expected; he had long hair, dyed blond and tied back, and looked surprisingly young for his position. But right then, his furious expression was stern enough to melt steel, so Shouyou snapped to attention and hoped he could escape the bridge with nothing more than minor burns and perhaps a perforated ear drum.

"Those _idiots_ are just blindly following orders without even thinking for one second about what the consequences might be," Ukai growled, slamming down into the empty seat next to Takeda. Even though Shouyou wasn't looking directly at him, he could actually _feel_ the heat of the captain's gaze as it fell on his face. It was like being speared by a targeting laser. "And who are these two jokers?!" he yelled.

Shouyou flinched — that was probably his eardrum gone already — but Sugawara didn't seem particularly fazed when he explained. "They're our last two pilots," he said calmly. "They got caught up in events beyond their control. As for their appearances... well, you mentioned consequences. These two have witnessed them already."

This time, Shouyou left the explanation to Sugawara and Kageyama, since he kept stammering and getting his words mixed up every time he opened his mouth. Captain Ukai must have thought he was some kind of idiot, but even though his face burned in embarrassment, he kept quiet rather than make it even worse.

When they'd finished, Ukai slumped back in his seat and ran a weary hand over his face. "Shit."

"You warned them," Takeda said quietly. "But this only confirms it. We have no choice now."

Ukai sighed. "I know." He looked to Sawamura. "You agree?"

Sawamura took a deep breath and nodded. "I don't like either option, but at times like this you have to choose the lesser of two evils."

Shouyou glanced at Kageyama out of the corner of his eye and was relieved to see he looked just as baffled as Shouyou felt. He briefly considered asking what was going on but on balance decided that he preferred his head still attached to his neck.

Flicking some switches on the console fixed to the arm of his chair, Ukai cleared his throat. "Listen up, crew of the _Karasuno_ ," he said, and his voice echoed from speakers throughout the bridge. He paused a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Martial law has been declared throughout the Earth Federation. The Federation Assembly has been disbanded and civilian government suspended. Many of them have even been arrested.

"Needless to say, none of this is legal."

Ukai straightened, gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his hands went white. "It gets worse. Orders have gone out to every military unit, including us. 'Peace must be maintained at all costs', they say. 'Restore order and subdue any protests or uprisings by whatever means necessary'." He paused for breath before adding, "And worst of all, 'Use of deadly force is authorised'."

He glanced at Shouyou and Kageyama, who were watching with their mouths agape.

"This has already led to casualties, both military and civilian. There was a demonstration in Memorial Park that turned violent. The protesters panicked, rushing the soldiers sent to deal with them, and the soldiers responded as you'd expect. When someone attacks us, we're trained to fight back, not to arrest the culprits with the minimum of force — that's what the police are for. But if the military is used against civilians instead, those casualties will no doubt be just the first of many.

"So we have a choice. Do we obey these illegal orders and turn our guns on defenceless civilians, shooting them whenever they resist or protest, or do we draw the line at murder and refuse?"

Ukai stared around the bridge, where everyone had turned to listen. Some people looked scared, some looked determined, and some looked confused. But Takeda and Sawamura both flanked Ukai, facing the rest of the bridge and presenting a united front.

"I've made my choice," Ukai continued, "and that decision is no. I will not obey an order to fire on innocent people, nor will I give such an order to any of you. Unfortunately, the other military forces here see things differently, so the _Karasuno_ will shortly be departing Phoenix Colony. If any of you feel like you still have a duty to follow people with no respect for law or human life, then feel free to get the hell off my ship. You have five minutes. Everyone else, prepare for departure. Things might get rough."

With one last glare around the bridge, the captain gave a determined nod.

"Ukai out."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Few_Bird and Maldevinine for all their invaluable help betaing this fic!


	2. Confrontation with the Grand King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: " _Dialogue in italics_ " indicates someone speaking via radio.

Ukai stabbed the console with his finger, cutting off the broadcast, and glared around the bridge. "Anyone who wants to go, go now. Nobody will stop you."

Takeda cleared his throat. "It's a difficult decision," he said. "So please follow your consciences."

There was some muttering and people exchanging anxious looks. After a moment, two officers manning the consoles on the left-hand side unstrapped themselves and hurried out, avoiding Ukai's gaze.

"Good riddance," Ukai muttered once they'd left.

"Don't be too hard on them," Takeda said softly. "It's a lot to ask."

Ukai snorted. " 'Do you agree with murder' is a lot to ask, is it?"

Sawamura looked past the captain at Shouyou and Kageyama. "What about you two? This probably isn't what you signed up for. There's still time if you want to go."

Shouyou gulped. The whole situation felt unreal, even dreamlike. But Sawamura continued to stare at him, waiting patiently, and as sickening dread pooled in his gut, Shouyou knew he couldn't escape the truth: this was actually happening.

Mutiny. They were talking about mutiny.

All Shouyou had ever wanted was to become a mobile suit pilot and be able to fight to protect the people he loved. Now they were asking him to throw it all away on his very first day. Everything he'd worked for... gone. But what was the alternative? To stay and help those who wanted to use force against ordinary people, people like Natsu? If he'd been the one in that mobile suit in the park, would he have been willing to pull the trigger and shoot at civilians if someone ordered him to?

And when he thought about it like that, it wasn't a choice at all.

The realisation hit him like a punch to the stomach, winding him. He had to take a full breath before he could speak. "I'll stay," he croaked.

Sawamura nodded.

"Kageyama?" Sugawara urged gently. Shouyou turned to Kageyama, who was staring at the floor like it had just insulted him and his entire family.

"This is mutiny, right?" he asked quietly, looking up. "You're asking us to commit mutiny."

"We're asking you whether you agree with killing civilians," Ukai snapped.

Takeda held up a hand to calm the captain before turning to Kageyama. "If it helps, Ensign, I don't believe it's mutiny. We're simply refusing to obey what we believe to be an unlawful order. Many of us have already seen what unrestricted military authority leads to — untold millions of deaths. And you yourself have already seen the possible consequences firsthand. So do we not have a moral duty to refuse?"

Kageyama looked like he'd just swallowed an entire mouthful of bees and washed them down with lemon juice.

"I'll stay too," he said finally.

"Good," Ukai said. He glanced down at the console. "Okay, time's nearly up. Let's get moving."

"Comms, request departure clearance," Takeda ordered, gesturing at the communications operator.

A moment later, the comms operator shook his head. "Denied, sir. They say no vessels are allowed to dock or depart until the situation stabilises."

Ukai let out a growl that made the hair on Shouyou's neck stand up. "Put me on with the harbourmaster. Now."

The comms operator tapped in some commands and then nodded as the image of a middle-aged man with a thin moustache popped up on the big viewpanel opposite. "Channel is live, sir."

"This is Captain Keishin Ukai of the _Karasuno_ ," he said, glaring at the man. "Open this docking bay. Now."

The harbourmaster spluttered, his eyes going wide. "I'm just obeying orders!" he protested. "The commandant said to lock down the port, no ships in or out."

"I don't care about your orders," Ukai said. "You will open this docking bay _right now_ or I will blast it open for you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, I understand," the harbour master said, nodding quickly. Sweat had broken out on his forehead. "We'll open it."

The channel went dead. Ukai pointed at Sawamura. "Get to your mobile suits, just in case anyone tries to stop us." Then, to the rest of the bridge, he said, "Close all hatches, retract all moorings, and get us underway."

"Come on," Sawamura said, heading for the hatch. Shouyou, Kageyama, and Sugawara followed, thankfully leaving the tense atmosphere of the bridge behind. It felt almost like escaping a dragon's lair.

But as relieved as he was to leave the bridge behind him, Shouyou saw only uncertainly ahead. "Do you really think they'll try to stop us, sir?" he couldn't help but ask. Refusing to act against civilians was one thing; that decision felt right now that he'd made it, a weight lifted from his shoulders. But what if it led to a conflict with their own forces?

"I hope not," Sawamura replied without turning. He pushed off from the bulkhead and turned right at a junction, then drifted down a ladder. "But everything I thought I knew this morning has been turned upside down, so who can say?"

Shouyou swallowed hard. His stomach was churning violently and he tried taking slow, measured breaths to calm down. He'd dreamed of being a pilot his whole life and now he was finally here, aboard his first ship and about to climb into his first mobile suit. But he never imagined he might be taking it into combat against his own side.

"Um..." he said timidly. "I, uh, think I might need to throw up first."

Kageyama gave him an incredulous look but Sugawara caught him as he drifted past and smiled. "I don't blame you," he said, before turning to Sawamura. "We'll catch up, Daichi!"

"Okay. Just don't take too long."

Sugawara led him to the nearest toilets and waited outside as Shouyou heaved up the contents of his stomach. It didn't really help; he had to keep swallowing back the bile that threatened to climb up his throat, and all the while, his body refused to stop trembling. There were so many emotions bubbling up inside him that he was fit to burst. It was way worse than the usual butterflies he got before a flight and he wondered if he'd even be able to fly straight — his hands were shaking so badly his mobile suit would probably end up wobbling side to side.

"Get it together," Shouyou told himself, clenching his fists. He took the opportunity to wash some of the dirt and sweat off his face before staring into the mirror and taking a deep breath. His reflection stared back like a sickly, dishevelled ghost.

"I can do this," he said, exhaling slowly. "I _will_ do this."

After closing his eyes for a moment and taking another deep breath, he headed back out into the corridor.

"Feeling better?" Sugawara asked him.

"Not really," Shouyou admitted. "But I won't let that stop me."

Sugawara gave him another warm smile. "That's the spirit. Just don't throw up in your helmet: trust me, it's not pretty."

Shouyou's cheeks flared pink. He wasn't going to make _that_ mistake again. "Thanks, Lieutenant Sugawara."

"No problem," Sugawara said. "And you can just call me Suga. Everyone else does."

They caught up with Kageyama and Sawamura in the pilots' prep area just as Kageyama was finishing putting on his pilot suit. Sugawara showed Shouyou where to find his new locker, which contained an orange pilot suit in his size, and together they hurried to get changed too.

"You look like a human tangerine," Kageyama observed, waiting impatiently by the door.

Shouyou stuck his tongue out at him before pulling the orange helmet on, making sure the seal around the neck was secure. He'd once seen another cadet forget to do it properly with the result that his helmet had popped right off once the airlock depressurised. The guy had been okay afterwards, albeit freaked out, but he certainly never forgot to seal his helmet again.

"We can get you a dark pilot suit if you prefer," Sawamura said mildly. "But if you ever need to eject, good luck anyone spotting you against the black of space."

Kageyama blushed and shuffled his feet. "Sorry sir. Orange is fine."

"You're a combat coordinator, right, Kageyama?" Suga said as he finished fastening his gloves. "So am I. But you can leave it to me this time, until you've had chance to integrate with the rest of the team and train with them a little. For now, just stick close, stay in relay mode, and watch what I do."

Sawamura nodded. "Same goes for you, Hinata," he said. "Stay with Suga. Think of this as a training flight." He went to help Suga fasten his helmet and added, "Hopefully it won't come to fighting anyway."

With all four of them suited up and ready, they floated through to the starboard mobile suit hangar. "Those are your suits over there," Sawamura said, pointing towards the back. "Numbers 9 and 10. Strap in and get ready. The comms will be set up already, so listen carefully. If we're needed, take your place on the catapult and join us outside."

Shouyou tried to pay attention, but he lost concentration the moment Sawamura pointed at his mobile suit.

Despite his nerves, a wave of sheer joy tore through him, momentarily washing away all of his uncertainty and doubts and confusion. This was _his mobile suit!_

It was everything he could have hoped for — one of the brand new RHQ-95/A attack models, fresh from the assembly line. An 'Avenger', as everyone had nicknamed them. 18 metres tall and 54 tons fully loaded, it was packed with cutting edge weaponry and could mop the floor with older suits like the RGM-89 he'd seen at the park. Like the other suits in the hangar _,_ it was painted in a black colour scheme with orange highlights on its chest, arms, and legs, including the number 10 emblazoned just above the cockpit in the centre of its torso.

As Shouyou drifted up to the cockpit, grabbing the canopy and swinging himself inside, he glanced at Kageyama's suit, stood next to his own. It was an RHQ-95/C 'Conductor', a combat control variant rather than Shouyou's attack variant, but externally it looked similar: still humanoid in shape, just bulkier. The most obvious differences were all of the communications devices and sensor antennae that sprouted from its head and shoulders like clumps of spiky metal hair, used to coordinate the battle. Kageyama was already closing his canopy, so Shouyou did the same and fired up his suit's systems.

The panoramic monitors lining the walls of the spherical cockpit sprung to life, making it seem like he was floating in mid-air in the middle of the hangar. It had been disorientating at first, back during training, but Shouyou had long since grown used to it. He activated the comms system so he could hear what was going on while he ran through the pre-flight checklist as fast as he could.

" _— sign of pursuit?_ " someone was asking.

" _Not yet, but we're only just outside the colony,"_ Suga replied. _"There's plenty of comms traffic though — sounds like we made them angry."_

_"They can be as angry as they like as long as they don't come after us."_

_"Why's that, Ennoshita? You scared of 'em?"_

_"I don't want to get into a shooting match with our own forces, Tanaka. There's no going back from that."_

_"If they wanna fight, I say bring it on!"_

_"This is Sawamura. Cut the chitchat, please. All mobile suits check in."_

Shouyou listened as the other suits confirmed readiness one by one according to their mobile suit number. After Kageyama spoke, gruffly informing the others that his suit was at "full operational readiness", Shouyou cleared his throat and hoped his voice wouldn't warble too badly. "Avenger 10, Shouyou Hinata, all ready."

" _We've got more rookies?"_ someone said once the last suit checked in. " _Talk about picking a bad time."_

 _"Be nice to them, Kinoshita,"_ Suga said. " _Remember, this is their first flight. It's probably not what they were expecting."_

 _"It's not what_ any _of us were expecting,_ " someone else said.

A new, louder voice cut across the chatter. Shouyou recognised it as the calm, measured voice of Commander Takeda. " _Mobile suit team, sensors confirm pursuit. One ship, identified as the_ Aobajohsai _. They're already launching mobile suits. Please launch and stand by for further orders. Prepare to intercept if required."_

" _You heard the commander_ ," Sawamura said. " _Launch by number and form up behind the ship. Uh, Kageyama and Hinata, you two stick close to Suga. He's in Conductor 2."_

"Yes sir!" Shouyou acknowledged, watching impatiently as another suit moved to the catapult. He felt like a spring that had been compressed to its maximum, full of anxious tension; he just wanted to get out there and get it over with, no matter what they were facing. It was better than sitting still and letting his mind run away with itself.

To try to keep himself on track, Shouyou thought back to his first time on a mobile suit catapult. When he'd first heard about it, he'd imagined something a lot more comical, like a giant elastic slingshot or medieval trebuchet that flung the suit out into space, and wondered what the point was. After all, mobile suits had thrusters of their own, right? It only made sense after his long-suffering instructor had patiently pointed out that using the thrusters in the enclosed hangar would incinerate everyone inside and wreck the innards of the ship. And once he'd experienced it for himself, Shouyou finally understood how useful the initial acceleration could be, launching the suits out of the ship without them having to ignite their own engines and give away their positions. Dedicated mobile suit carriers like the _Karasuno_ even had two or more catapults, letting them launch multiple suits at once.

His turn was coming up; Kageyama was launching now. Once the other suit was hurtling along the catapult deck, Shouyou flexed his trembling fingers and grasped the controls tightly. Carefully, he marched his own suit onto the launchpad, locking its feet into the electromagnetic grapples.

His palms itched as he waited for the go signal. He let go of the controls for a moment to clench his hands a couple of times, trying not to think about how close he was to throwing up inside his helmet. The comms chatter had faded into the background and his own breathing dominated his hearing, rapid and jerky and shaky. He wasn't even sure whether it was excitement or fear or some toxic mixture of the two that was at fault. All he knew was that he'd never been this nervous or excited in his entire life and that if he screwed up it would —

"HINATA!"

He blinked, looking around the cockpit in alarm. "Uh... Wha—?"

" _Are you asleep?!"_ Sawamura yelled. " _Launch_!"

With a yelp of embarrassment, Shouyou crouched on the catapult. "Hinata in Avenger 10 — launching!" he squeaked. The next moment he was thrown back in the cockpit as the catapult propelled him forward along the launch deck. It was like the best rollercoaster ride in the world, except this time it was different, as though there was a piece of track missing up ahead and his car was about to get thrown off the rails and launched into the unknown.

" _About time_!" Kageyama's voice sounded in his ear, speaking over a direct channel. " _What was the hold-up_?"

Kageyama's Conductor was settling into formation next to him, matching Shouyou's movements with irritating precision.

"Nothing! I just... I just lost focus for a second, that's all. It's only natural, your first time," Shouyou said, glad that they weren't speaking over the general frequency.

" _It's my first time too, but_ I _didn't freeze up on the catapult_ ," Kageyama pointed out.

Shouyou rolled his eyes. "Well it's natural for _normal_ people."

" _Whatever. Don't freeze up again, dumbass_ ," Kageyama shot back, closing the channel.

By now the whole team had assembled behind the ship, all twelve mobile suits forming a kind of wall between the _Karasuno_ and the pursuing battlecruiser. A beeping sound told him the Minovsky particle density was rising as two vessels flooded the area with the quantum particles, each seeking to block each other's sensors and disrupt their communications. He switched off the alarm, unconcerned.

Even if Minovsky particles made radar useless, they did nothing to obstruct visual wavelengths. Shouyou's heads-up display had highlighted the approaching Aobajohsai mobile suits but they were close enough that he could already spot them himself as a cluster of blue-white streaks. The dazzling trails of their thrusters, flaring as they rocketed forwards at combat speeds, made them look like a little family of comets.

Shouyou took the opportunity to check his systems one last time. Flight systems... check. Sensors... check. Weapon systems... check. Comms system... check. Ejection system...

He let out a shaky breath, wishing there was a way of wiping the sweat from his palms without taking his gloves off. Everything was happening too fast! None of this was how things were supposed to be.

" _Here they come_ ," Sawamura said. " _Don't open fire unless fired upon first, understood? We don't want to start any fights if we can avoid them."_

 _"And what if_ they _shoot first?"_ a nervous voice asked.

Sawamura hesitated before replying. " _Shoot back, but pull your punches. We don't want to kill them. Go for disabling shots only and do NOT target their cockpits."_

The Aobajohsai mobile suits were closing fast. Shouyou wondered what orders they'd been given; surely they wouldn't fire on friendly forces?

" _Noya, Tsukishima, I want you two up front to give us some cover. Scatter some of your mines and see if that puts them off."_

Shouyou watched from his position near Kageyama and Suga as two suits, both RHQ-95/D 'Defender' variants, surged forwards and began deploying a cloud of cluster mines from the multi-purpose launchers mounted on their thighs. Each mine was only small, so no single mine could take out an entire mobile suit unless the suit got extremely unlucky, but they could still cause crippling damage and would slow the approaching suits down.

Or should have slowed them down, at least, but the Aobajohsai mobile suits didn't stop for a second. They'd shifted their formation, moving their own Defenders up front, but then streaks of fire shot from the rear-most suits — long-range 'Bombardier' variants — as heavy missiles leapt forwards. They exploded in the midst of the small minefield, cleaving a path through the centre. Any remaining mines in their way were shot down by the shoulder-mounted point defence cannons on the Defenders.

" _Neat trick,"_ one of the other pilots said cheerfully.

 _"So much for that idea_ ," Suga said. " _But they haven't targeted us directly yet."_

 _"Yet,"_ Sawamura agreed. _"Get ready in case that changes, Suga."_

" _Already on it,"_ Suga replied. _"Stand by for targets, everybody."_

Shouyou was glad they had combat coordinators with them, even if one of them was Kageyama. It was all too easy to lose track of the rest of the fight when you were focusing on chasing down your target, and without someone else to keep an eye on the bigger picture, that could easily get you killed. So having coordinators around to orchestrate the whole battle and watch over you — warning you when someone was on your tail and pointing you towards priority targets or teammates in need — was deeply reassuring.

Sure enough, an enemy mobile lit up on his display as Suga allocated targets for everyone: Shouyou's target was one of the Bombardiers near the back. He nudged the controls to angle his Avenger in that direction.

The Aobajohsai suits were still coming, almost within firing range now. Shouyou tensed, anticipating incoming particle blasts, and nearly jumped when a loud, silky voice sounded over the radio, crackling due to the Minovsky interference.

" _Dear Karasuno pilots, this is Oikawa, commander of the Aobajohsai mobile suit team_ ," he said, his tone bright and chirpy. " _Nobody wants a fight here, so if you'd kindly stand down and surrender, we can all just go back to the colony and get this mess sorted out without any of you getting hurt."_

It was enough to set Shouyou's teeth on edge. The false politeness, the supreme confidence underlying his words... He didn't even seem to consider that some of his own team might get hit too.

" _I'm afraid we can't do that, Aobajohsai_ ," Sawamura replied calmly. " _So keep your distance and none of you need get hurt either."_

For a second, Shouyou wondered if maybe they'd be able to talk it out. They were on the same side really, weren't they?

 _C'mon, just turn back_ , he thought desperately. _Don't be stupid. This isn't worth dying over._

But the Aobajohsai suits ignored his silent plea and closed to within firing range. Shouyou's target lit up in gold on his display and he shifted the crosshairs of his particle rifle to hover over it, his trigger finger trembling.

 _"Don't fire unless fired upon_ ," Sawamura reminded them, but Shouyou heard the tension in his voice. It was turning into a game of chicken, each side holding their nerve as long as possible and waiting to see who broke first.

They were _still coming_ , close enough now that Shouyou could make out the suits themselves and not just the actinic flare of their thrusters.

" _They might be hoping to get into melee range,_ " someone warned. " _That way they can disable us more easily."_

Wait, did that even happen anymore? Almost all mobile suits carried melee weaponry, usually a beam sabre, and Shouyou had trained with it as he had all the other weapons systems, but his instructors had been of the opinion that modern tactics made them obsolete and hadn't placed much emphasis on them.

A hysterical giggle forced its way up his throat. _Maybe I'll complain to my instructors_ , he thought. _Assuming I get out of this alive..._

" _You might be right, Tsukishima. Everyone draw your beam sabres, just in case. Protect the slower suits. They'll be vulnerable in close combat."_

Shouyou drew his beam sabre, holding it in his suit's left hand since his right still held his particle rifle. It meant he couldn't hold his shield, still attached to his back, but it was virtually useless against sabres anyway; they could slice straight through it in seconds. He moved closer to Suga and Kageyama, whose Conductor suits were heavier and slower than his Avenger, if more strongly armoured.

And then the fight was on, suits on both sides igniting their sabres and clashing with one another.

Shouyou was thrown back in his seat as one of the Aobajohsai suits slammed into him, their beam sabres locked and sizzling against each other just a couple of metres from his cockpit. He kicked out and pushed the other suit away, opening a little distance, then blocked as the other suit tried to slice off one of his arms.

There was no time for talk or even for thought, and Shouyou fell back on reflex and instinct. Again and again he had to block, his mobile suit shuddering with each impact, until his head snapped forwards painfully when the enemy landed a kick right over his cockpit — ten tons of armoured leg slamming into his suit's torso. It was a miracle the cockpit armour hadn't buckled.

Off balance, Shouyou hit his thrusters and shot upwards like a missile. His opponent's follow up strike nearly severed his suit's lower left leg, damaging one of the foot thrusters and sending him into a cartwheel from the lopsided thrust. The enemy suit was coming up behind him, so rather than fighting the spin, Shouyou rolled into it and extended his beam sabre. His wild gyrations caught his opponent by surprise, his beam sabre slicing into its head and shoulder.

The enemy suit withdrew, leaving Shouyou gasping and sweating, his hands shaking as he gripped the controls too tightly.

"I... I did it!" he yelled. "YES!"

But his wasn't the only duel. He blinked and focused on his sensors, trying to locate the rest of the team. Suga was in trouble, being chased by a trio of enemies, but two other Karasuno suits had already gone to his aid. So where was Kageyama? He ought to be close...

There he was, grappling with one of the enemy's Avengers some distance away. Kageyama had taken some damage and lost his weapon, but somehow he'd got close enough to wrestle over the Avenger's sabre instead, pinning his opponent in place.

Which made said opponent a perfect target for Shouyou, who fired up his thrusters and streaked over, raking his beam sabre across the enemy Avenger's waist. The distraction allowed Kageyama to follow up with a blow to the Avenger's head, crushing its primary sensors.

Shouyou puffed in relief. Sweat was beading on his forehead, making him itch. He wondered if he had time to open his helmet visor and wipe it away, but a pair of flashing indicators showed that two more Aobajohsai mobile suits were already on their way.

" _Hinata, use your particle rifle!"_ Kageyama snapped impatiently. Amazingly, he sounded more furious than scared, despite nearly having his mobile suit carved up like a kebab.

"But I don't want to accidentally hit the cockpit!" he protested. The enemy suits weren't flying in a straight line; they were making sure to jink around to make themselves difficult targets.

After a short pause, Kageyama spoke again — calmer this time, but still laced with tension. " _Alright, I'll paint the targets for you. Follow my lead and shoot the moment they light up. The exact same moment, Hinata! It'll only work if you're fast enough."_

Shouyou frowned. Conductors were fitted with a pair of laser target painters, one on each shoulder. Normally they were used to help guide in missiles and pinpoint small targets for long-range attacks, but they were rarely used against other mobile suits; any suit that got painted would detect it immediately and take evasive action. "But that —"

" _Just do it!_ "

"Fine!" Shouyou snapped, drawing his rifle and setting it to integrate with Kageyama's laser targeting, allowing it to automatically lock on to the target once it got close enough. He only just finished before the first laser lit up the weapon arm of one of the incoming Avengers. Acting on pure reflex, Shouyou brought his rifle to bear and fired. Immediately, Kageyama switched to the other suit, again targeting its arm, and Shouyou snapped off another shot.

Only then did he check to see whether he'd hit, and to his astonishment he realised both enemy suits were now missing arms and sabres — literally disarmed — and falling back. How...?!

But there was no time to catch his breath. Beyond the brutal melee, he spotted a trio of Aobajohsai suits — a control suit and two Bombardiers — heading for the _Karasuno_.

"Kageyama, the _Karasuno_!"

" _I already see them_ ," Kageyama said. Then, over the general channel, he said: " _Oikawa, stop!"_

Oikawa's response was instantaneous and utterly astonished. " _Tobio?!"_

Even as Kageyama spoke, he was already painting Oikawa's mobile suit with his laser target designators. Eager to repeat the miraculous feat from earlier, Shouyou reacted without hesitation and fired two shots; his first scored a glancing hit, but the second missed as Oikawa dodged, and Kageyama switched to one of the Bombardiers. It was too late; the trio were already taking evasive action, breaking off from their attack on the _Karasuno_ and circling round.

" _Keep it up_ ," Kageyama said, lighting up one of the enemy suits harassing Suga instead.

With his heart in his mouth and his hands shaking with adrenaline, Shouyou fired three more precision shots at three different suits; one missed but the other two did not, disabling the enemy suits before they could react to being unexpectedly painted by Kageyama's laser target designators. It was unnerving, and inexplicable, and so, _so_ awesome. He was almost disappointed when the Aobajohsai suits eventually realised the danger, pulling back and opening up with a scattering of particle rifle fire aimed at Kageyama, because he wanted to keep on firing, keep on hitting, in such an effortless way.

But by then the outcome was already decided. With the pressure on the Karasuno team relieved, one of their Defenders — suit #4 — was able to respond and began zipping about, intercepting blasts and launching countermeasures like smoke bombs and beam dispersion chaff.

" _Pull back to the ship_ ," Sawamura ordered. " _Those of you who can still move, help those who can't._ "

And so Shouyou's first ever battle ended up a strange kind of draw. The Karasuno team had taken more damage, but they'd prevented the Aobajohsai force from reaching the _Karasuno_ itself and forcing a surrender.

He grabbed hold of one of the crippled Bombardiers, helping to carry it back to the ship, and let out a long sigh of relief.

Then he threw up in his helmet.

 

* * *

 

It was just as well there was no gravity in the _Karasuno_ 's hangar bays, because Shouyou doubted his legs would keep him upright if he tried to stand. Instead he drifted just off the deck, near the passageway that connected the two hangars, clutching a railing in one hand and his stinky helmet in the other. The adrenaline of the battle had drained away now, leaving him light-headed and numb. His limbs were like noodles and his head was fuzzy, full of cotton wool, so he was content to just float and breathe and revel in having survived.

Not that they'd escaped unscathed: the _Karasuno_ 's mobile suits were a mess. Several of them were missing limbs — one had even lost its head — and a few, including Suga's Conductor, were completely disabled. At least none of their pilots had been seriously hurt. There were a few knocks and bruises, and one of the Bombardier pilots had suffered a minor burn, but it could have been a lot worse.

Somewhere deep in the fog of Shouyou's mind, all the doubts and uncertainty continued to swirl like a thundercloud on the horizon, but for now it was distant enough to be ignored. Nobody had died — on either side — and that was what mattered most. Everything else could wait.

Kageyama was nearby, the magnetic soles of his boots anchoring him to the deck. He was just floating there, his body relaxed as he sat in mid-air, looking rather dazed. Neither of them had spoken; they'd caught sight of each other as they climbed out of their cockpits and since nobody had told them what to do next, they had just moved to somewhere out of the way as the mechanics began to swarm over the damaged suits.

"Hey!" one of the other pilots called, drifting over. "That was _amazing_. I've never seen shooting like that! How long have you two been flying together?"

"Huh?" Shouyou said. He exchanged a puzzled glance with Kageyama, who frowned in confusion.

The pilot came to a stop in front of them, planting his boots on the deck to hold himself in place. He was even shorter than Shouyou, though his freely-floating hair made him look taller. He was practically vibrating in excitement, as though his body was too small to contain all the energy that had built up inside. "That target painting trick you pulled! You must have practised it for ages, right? Can you teach me? I'm Noya, by the way!" He held out his hand expectantly.

Shouyou let go of the railing and switched his helmet to his other arm so he could shake Noya's hand — or rather have his hand shaken by Noya, since Noya grasped it with both hands and more or less shook Shouyou's whole body up and down.

"Uh, we only met today," Shouyou said once he'd introduced them both, trying to get a grip on the railing again.

Noya froze, eyes going wide. "Wha...? Seriously?!" Breaking into a broad grin, he laughed and said, "But that's even more awesome!" He grabbed Kageyama's hand and shook that too, nearly wrenching his arm out of its socket by the look of it. Turning back to Shouyou, he pointed at his face. "By the way, you've got some slime just there."

"Yeah, I... kinda puked in my helmet," Shouyou admitted, rubbing his face with his arm. "Luckily I threw up most of my stomach beforehand, so there wasn't much left to make a mess."

Laughing like this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard, Noya slapped him on the shoulder. "First real fight?" he asked once he'd calmed down enough to speak.

"First everything," Shouyou said. "This is my first post." He scratched his head. "It's a bit different to what I expected."

Noya nodded, sucking on his upper lip. "Yeah, your timing kinda sucks — you joined us just as everything went to hell." His grin returned and he wrapped his arm around Shouyou's neck. "So, bet you're hungry after all that puking. Let's go eat!"

"Shouldn't we debrief or something?" Kageyama asked, reluctantly following as Noya all but dragged Shouyou through a nearby hatch. "What about Commander Sawamura?"

"He's probably busy talking to Shimada and Takinoue about the repairs," Noya said, leading them down a corridor. "He knows where to find us."

After they'd changed out of their pilot suits, Noya took them deeper into the ship. He paused outside a large hexagonal hatch and palmed the controls. "Hope you're ready for some gravity again."

Inside the hatch was a large cylindrical chamber, slowly spinning; it was like climbing inside a giant washing machine. Around the edge, between thick spokes connecting to the central spindle, were the entrances to two elevators and two long tunnels — situated in pairs so that one elevator/tunnel combo was directly opposite the other. Each tunnel was wide enough for several people to pass through side by side and both were lined with a couple of large, padded ladders. The tunnel entrances were moving, steadily rotating around the outside like two holes in the washing machine drum.

Shouyou's eyes widened in amazement. "Whoa! The _Karasuno_ has spin gravity?"

Noya was already heading for one of the tunnels. "It was built for long patrols, so yeah. We lock it down during battles though. Don't want it ripping the ship apart if it gets damaged. You can take the elevators if you want but I think the ladders are more fun." He slipped inside the tunnel and grabbed the ladder with practised ease, then paused, eyes lighting up. "Hey, watch this!"

As Shouyou and Kageyama started to follow, Noya pushed himself downward, grinning at them as he slid along the ladder, using his hands and feet to keep himself connected to it. He shot down the tunnel like an arrow, plummeting to the deck below. At the last second, he slowed right down and jumped off, rolling across the deck and coming to his feet with arms wide and a self-satisfied grin.

"Ta-da!"

"Noya, that was so cool!" Shouyou said eagerly. "I wanna try!" He shoved off hard, going from a gentle drift to a rapid drop.

"Wait, it takes a bit of practice to get —"

Shouyou had already realised his mistake as he accelerated much faster than he expected. He squeezed more tightly with his hands and feet, trying to slow himself down and giving himself friction burns in the process, but the end of the ladder was rapidly approaching and he wasn't going to stop in time —

And then he thumped into Noya's outstretched arms. "Gotcha," Noya grinned, before unceremoniously dumping Shouyou on the deck with a thud. "Seriously though, it's not as easy as it looks." He jabbed his chest with his thumb. "Took even _me_ a few attempts to get it right."

"Dumbass," Kageyama said, smirking as he landed gracefully next to them. He'd climbed down the ladder the whole way, hopping off only at the end.

Shouyou got to his feet, his cheeks red hot. "Sorry! It just looked so cool and I wanted to give it a try."

"Noya! You better not be teaching our newbies any of your idiotic acrobatics."

They all looked up the tunnel to see another pilot climbing down towards them.

"That's Ennoshita," Noya muttered, holding his hand over his mouth conspiratorially. "He's a real killjoy sometimes."

"And I'm not deaf, you know," Ennoshita said, dropping down next to them. He chose to ignore Noya (who was pulling a face at him) and instead gave Shouyou and Kageyama appraising looks. "You two did well out there. Which one of you is which?"

"I'm Shouyou Hinata," Shouyou said. "Mr Grumpy here is Tobio Kageyama. He's a car thief."

Kageyama grunted. "I'm not grumpy."

Shouyou folded his arms. "That sounds like something a grumpy person would say."

"And I already said sorry about your car," Kageyama said sheepishly, ducking his head.

Noya was grinning in delight but Ennoshita was rubbing his forehead with one hand. "I can already tell that you two are going to be a handful," he said, sighing. "I'm Chikara Ennoshita. I suppose Noya has lured you here with promises of food?"

"Yes," Kageyama said, pressing a hand to his stomach and wearing a constipated expression. 

Ennoshita raised an eyebrow. "Okay, well, Sawamura asked me to check on you both, but we can do that over food if you want."

It was definitely going to take Shouyou a while to get his bearings aboard the _Karasuno_ , so he was thankful that he could just follow the bickering older pilots as they headed to a comparatively spacious room —  the pilot's mess. It had a small serving area and three dining tables, the sort that you often saw in variable-g environments with fixed benches on both sides and lots of clips and attachments to hold things in place while you ate. On the other side of the room was a large viewpanel, some comfy chairs and sofas, and even a holographic gaming table. Shouyou had fond memories of playing pool and air hockey on a similar table at a local bar at Yukigaoka, back during academy training. His initials had still been top of the air hockey high score table when he graduated.

After supplying them all with food and drink — Noya and Kageyama went all out with a large portion of curry and rice each, whereas Shouyou limited himself to a single pork bun in case his stomach threatened to erupt again — Ennoshita sat them down and explained what was going on.

"The _Karasuno_ 's refit is incomplete," he said, "and we haven't been fully supplied to operational levels yet. There was no need, since we were docked in the colony." At that, Shouyou raised a hand to interrupt. Ennoshita sighed. "Yes, Hinata?"

"Can I call my family, sir?" Shouyou asked. "They're on Phoenix Colony and I want to make sure they're all right."

Ennoshita gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry. Communications are restricted right now to avoid giving our position away." When he saw Shouyou's face fall, he added, "But I'll double check with Sawamura, okay?"

Shouyou nodded. "Thanks, Lieutenant."

Hopefully his mother and Natsu were both safe. As long as they stayed in the shelters, they ought to be okay. But he knew they'd be worried about him too, and with so much going on, being able to see their faces again would be a big relief.

"So what's the next step?" Kageyama asked, before shovelling another spoonful of curry into his mouth.

Ennoshita sipped at his coffee. "Well, as I was saying, we're under-equipped and now all our mobile suits are damaged too. So the plan is to head to another colony that Captain Ukai thinks will be friendly. Once there we'll repair and stock up."

"Is everyone else okay?" Shouyou asked, eyeing Kageyama's curry hungrily and regretting not ordering more than a single pork bun. "I know Suga's Conductor got hit hard."

"He's a bit shaken up and his suit is a mess," Ennoshita said grimly. "We're lucky that those Aobajohsai guys were only trying to disable us, not kill us." Giving Kageyama a curious look, he added, "Speaking of which, how did you two do that thing with the target painting?"

"That's what I want to know too!" Noya said with his mouth full, spraying rice everywhere. Ennoshita wearily picked a grain off his face and flicked it back.

Shouyou didn't even really know himself; now that the battle was over and he'd had time to think, he almost wondered if he'd imagined it all. He turned to Kageyama, as keen to hear the explanation as everyone else.

"It's not that complicated," Kageyama said, pausing to sip at some of his drink. "Laser target designators allow pinpoint accuracy even against moving targets, and as long as you fire fast enough, the target won't have time to dodge. So all I did was zoom in on the enemies' weapons and linked the targeting data to Hinata for him to shoot."

Ennoshita's eyebrows shot up. "You had time to do all that in the middle of a dogfight?"

Kageyama shrugged, already going back to his curry.

"But it was so quick," Noya said. "I mean, I'm a Defender pilot. I'm all about reacting quickly. But I've never seen coordination like that before. You didn't have some kind of signals set up beforehand?"

With a curious glance at Shouyou, Kageyama shook his head. "No."

Ennoshita combed his hair with fingers. "The only time I've seen target painters used," he said slowly, "is when guiding in missiles or torpedoes during a strike on a capital ship. Anything smaller — especially mobile suits — can sense that they're being painted and evade." He gazed at Shouyou, narrowing his eyes in thought. "But you were firing faster than they could react. I mean, your rifle would automatically lock on to the laser painter once it was close enough, but you still had to bring it to bear yourself first. It was like you knew what targets Kageyama would pick before he lit them up."

Shouyou shrugged again. "I don't know what to tell you," he said anxiously. "There was no trick. I guess I just have fast reflexes."

Ennoshita and Noya exchanged glances. "They say they only met today, too," Noya said, grinning. "Aren't they great? I wanna adopt them or something."

Rolling his eyes, Ennoshita bit back a laugh and returned his attention to Shouyou and Kageyama. "Well, however you pulled it off, you two probably saved the day out there. Nicely done."

They continued to chat about the battle, going over it blow by blow. It turned out that Noya was the pilot of mobile suit #4, the Defender who had laid the smokescreen and intercepted the shots at Kageyama at the end, while Ennoshita piloted suit #6, an Avenger. Shouyou wanted to stay and absorb as much precious wisdom from the two older pilots as he could, but having drunk two cartons of juice, his traitorous body had other plans and he had to excuse himself to visit the nearest toilets.

He was starting to feel better now, the post-battle shakiness mostly gone and the riot in the park seeming like a lifetime ago. With a bit of food in his belly and his first successful battle under his belt, some of his natural optimism was returning. Maybe the events at Phoenix Colony were just a fluke, and everyone would realise that this whole martial law thing was stupid — they'd probably call it all off in a day or two. In the meantime, he was on his new ship with his new teammates, safely away from anyone who might order him to fight innocent civilians. He even began humming as he walked down the corridor, smiling to himself as it finally sunk in that he was now a proper mobile suit pilot at last.

Finding the toilets where Ennoshita said they would be, he was about to enter when the hatch swished open. Shouyou jerked to a stop upon finding his nose mere centimetres away from the chest of a giant. Looking up — and up! — he saw a bespectacled face frowning back down at him. Jumping backwards and nearly slamming into the opposite bulkhead, he instinctively raised his arms in a defensive posture, ready to unleash a devastating chop to the neck. Assuming he could reach the guy's neck; he had to be close to two metres tall.

On second thought, the man wasn't really a giant; he was just long and thin, like a normal person had been stretched out vertically. That must have been a painful experience, which was probably why he had such a sour expression on his face. Or maybe he was genetically engineered, part human and part stick insect.

"Who exactly are _you_?" Stick Insect asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm Shouyou Hinata!" Shouyou said warily.

Stick Insect crossed his arms. "You look like you're about to try to chop a plank of wood in half."

Letting his hands drop and trying to ignore the warmth in his cheeks and neck, Shouyou puffed out his chest. "I bet I could if I wanted to."

"Maybe you should use your head instead. It's probably dense enough."

Shouyou sniffed indignantly and crossed his arms too, matching Stick Insect's posture. "Oh yeah? Wanna see if I can chop _you_ in half, Stick Insect?"

Stick Insect's face ran through a series of fascinating expressions, starting with confusion, then dawning realisation, incredulous disbelief, and finally settling on anger.  He took one step forward, looming over Shouyou.

"Would you care to repeat that?"

Flinching back until he was pressed against the bulkhead, Hinata gulped. He'd always hoped he'd retire as a world-famous pilot ace, or perhaps experience a glorious death in combat someday, but it turned out he was going to get dismembered in a corridor by a human/stick insect hybrid instead.

"Tsukki! Please don't maim the newbie on his first day." Another officer walked up; his left arm was bandaged up between shoulder and elbow, forcing him to wear his uniform tunic loose over his shoulders. He gave Shouyou a shaky smile and said, "You're Hinata, right? I'm Tadashi Yamaguchi. You helped drag my Bombardier back to the _Karasuno_." He nodded at Stick Insect. "This is Kei Tsukishima, one of our Defender pilots." He raised an eyebrow and grinned. "I'd say his bark is worse than his bite, but I've seen him make people cry with just a few words, so that bark is pretty bad."

Tsukishima took off his glasses to polish them with the cuff of his jacket. "You're spoiling my fun, Tadashi."

"I'm sorry, Tsukishima!" Shouyou told him, holding up his hands in a peace offering. He seemed to be doing that a lot recently. "You startled me, that's all. I'm sorry I called you a stick insect." He offered an embarrassed smile. "Can we start again?"

Yamaguchi had to turn away, trying (unsuccessfully) to muffle a snort of laughter with his hand. "On second thoughts," he said, still giggling, "maybe you should run. If you're fast enough you might make it to the nearest airlock before he eviscerates you."

"Tch. I have more important things to do than waste time on him," Tsukishima said, ignoring Shouyou. "Like literally anything else." And then he strode past them both, heading down the gently curving corridor towards the pilot's mess.

"I don't think he likes me much," Shouyou said quietly, watching him go. He was so tall that he covered a lot of ground without trying, and he was out of sight in moments.

Yamaguchi was staring after him too. "Tsukki's a good guy once you get to know him," he said, scratching his ear. "Though he doesn't make that easy sometimes."

Shouyou's bladder was about ready to set off emergency evacuation sirens, so he apologised to Yamaguchi and darted into the toilets. Afterwards, he rinsed his face to rid it of any remaining vomit and tried his best to tame his hair, aiming to make himself more presentable.

Surprisingly, Yamaguchi had waited for him. "I thought you might not remember the way back to the mess," he said, smiling. "Even after a week aboard, I still keep getting lost on the way to the bathroom."

"Thanks!" Shouyou said, relieved not to have to find his own way back.

Back in the mess, Tsukishima and another pilot had joined the others. Tsukishima was sitting by himself at a different table, eating quietly and ignoring everyone else. He didn't look up even when Yamaguchi went to join him. The other pilot, a fierce guy with a buzzcut, had squeezed onto the end of the bench next to Noya. Neither of them seemed to mind being crowded, though Kageyama — who now had Noya squashed up against his left side — didn't seem very impressed.

"We should have given them a proper thrashing, to make sure they don't try to come after us again," the new pilot was saying as Shouyou sat back down. He gave Mr Baldy a wary smile.

"Oh, you're Hinata!" Baldy said, holding up his hand for a high five. "Nice shooting out there, dude. I'm Ryuu Tanaka!" 

Shouyou gave him a high five and preened while surreptitiously rubbing his stinging palm under the table. "Nice to meet you, Tanaka!"

"Tanaka was just telling us how he planned to pursue the Aobajohsai team back to their ship and defeat them all single-handedly," Ennoshita explained. "Which would be an impressive achievement in a mobile suit that was missing its head."

"As long as I have a gun and a hand to shoot with, I don't need a head," Tanaka said, pounding himself proudly on the chest with his fist.

"It's probably empty anyway," Tsukishima said from the next table, without looking over. Yamaguchi was struggling to keep a straight face.

"Oi! Enough of your cheek, rookie!" Tanaka shot back. "Anyway, it's not like _your_ mobile suit was in much better condition."

Ennoshita sighed and rubbed at his eyes. "Children, please, behave yourselves. It's been a stressful day and I could do without the usual bickering." Glancing at Yamaguchi, he added, "Is your arm okay?"

Yamaguchi nodded. "One of the doctors gave me some ointment and patched it up. It's not serious. Doesn't even hurt now — it's all numb." But his hand was trembling as he picked up his drink; seeing Shouyou staring, he put it down again and clasped his hands together, resting them on the table. His knuckles were white.

The room fell silent, the reminder of the cost of the battle bringing a more subdued atmosphere.

"I don't even understand what this is all about," Tanaka muttered, slumping forward with his chin on his hands. "Why did they order us to go in and stop riots? Isn't that the police's job?"

"The military has taken control," Ennoshita said. "We _are_ the police now. That's what martial law means."

"But why?" Shouyou asked, voicing the question that had been at the back of his mind ever since the park. "Captain Ukai said it was illegal. Why would they want to do that?"

"To prevent the collapse of the Federation government," Ennoshita explained, before draining the last of his drink from its bottle. "The Laplace scandal has turned everything upside down, and there's been protests and riots across the entire Earth sphere — on Earth, Luna, the colonies, everywhere. Outbreaks of fighting, even. Evidently someone at High Command decided it was better to impose order by force than let the chaos get any worse."

Shouyou remembered Natsu mentioning Laplace too, but he had no idea what it was about or why it was suddenly so important. "What _is_ that whole Laplace thing about?"

"Have you been living in a cave for the past few weeks?" Tsukishima asked, his noodles paused halfway to his mouth. "How can you not know that?"

Regretting having asked, Shouyou tried to sink down in his seat, his face flaring with embarrassment. "Sorry for not spending all my time watching TV," he muttered. "I had more important things to do."

Ennoshita sighed and took pity on him. "It's complicated," he said. "But in a nutshell, it turns out there was originally another clause to the Federation constitution that got secretly removed. One meant to grant rights to people living in space. But the government kept it hidden for the past century and committed all sorts of crimes trying to keep it covered up." He shrugged. "People are understandably upset — especially spacenoids. And it's only fuelled the colonial separatist movements even further."

Noya sat forward eagerly. "Doesn't it have something to do with Newtypes as well? That's what I heard."

Another term Shouyou had heard but didn't really understand. He'd heard stories but all he knew was that it was like some religious thing, where people believed that humanity would evolve into a new type of human once they reached space. But these days nine out of ten people lived off Earth and he hadn't seen people walking around with extra limbs or tentacles or spare eyes yet.

"There's no such thing," Tsukishima sneered. "Newtypes are a fantasy. You might as well believe in space wizards."

Before a furious Noya could extricate himself from between Tanaka and Kageyama to go bash Tsukishima's brains in with a spoon, Ennoshita cleared his throat loudly. "I think we should be more worried with the whole martial law thing, don't you?" he said pointedly. "Personally I find I have more immediate concerns than political scandals and pseudo-mystical theories once people start shooting at me."

Noya subsided, settling for firing off a venomous glare in Tsukishima's direction, but his target wasn't even looking. Instead Tsukishima was blithely slurping up some noodles.

"So is it like a coup then?" Kageyama asked, breaking the tension.

Ennoshita hesitated. "I suppose that depends on whether or not it's a temporary state of affairs."

"A group of unelected military officials have illegally seized control of the government by force," Tsukishima said. "That's basically the dictionary definition of a coup."

Kageyama frowned, turning back to Ennoshita. "But if they're trying to stop government collapsing, how is disbanding it themselves supposed to help?"

"I don't know," he said, shrugging. "Maybe they intended to hold new elections or something."

"So what happens to us?" Noya asked him. "Are we criminals now?"

"I don't know!" Ennoshita said, growing frustrated. "Look, I don't have all the answers, okay?"

Tsukishima cleared his throat. "Actually, I think it's fairly clear cut. Whether the military government is legitimate or not, they're the ones currently in charge. We disobeyed their orders and got into a battle with our own forces. For as long as this state of martial law exists, we're outlaws."

There was a long pause as the implications of Tsukishima's words sunk in.

"Maybe not," Ennoshita said, though he didn't sound very convincing. "It was a crazy situation; nobody knew what to believe or whether the orders were real or not. Things are bound to calm down in a day or two. After that, maybe they'll —"

"Stop deluding yourself, Ennoshita," Tsukishima said, looking up from his food and glaring at him. "They're willing to shoot civilians for merely waving placards around. We just fought and crippled an entire mobile suit team. They're not just going to overlook that."

"Wait, what are you saying, Tsukki?" Yamaguchi said, going pale.

Tsukishima took a deep breath and breathed it out slowly. "I'm saying, Tadashi, that next time they won't just be trying to disable us. They'll be shooting to kill."

 

* * *

 

"You're supposed to be the _ace_ , Oikawa," Commander Mizoguchi yelled. Tooru had to lean back to avoid the spittle flying from his mouth. "The ace of an elite team! How could you let this happen?! Are _any_ of your mobile suits undamaged?"

"Two of them, sir," he replied, despite knowing it would only enrage him further.

"Two of...?! This is unbelievable!"

Captain Irihata cleared his throat and placed a hand on Mizoguchi's shoulder. "Easy, Sadayuki."

Mizoguchi threw his hands up in exasperation and strode over to the fish tank that Irihata kept in his office. A dozen or so small exotic fish flitted back and forth, darting around the weeds and under the model bridge fixed to the bottom of the tank. They scattered when Mizoguchi approached.

Tooru didn't blame them. He sometimes wished he had a handy bridge to hide from Mizoguchi under too.

"It was an unprecedented situation," Captain Irihata said, crossing his arms and moving to lean back against the front of his desk. "There was never going to be a neat and tidy way of resolving the situation as long as the _Karasuno_ was unwilling to back down. Oikawa's team did as well as anyone could be expected to in that situation." He studied Tooru for a moment, nodding thoughtfully. "It can't have been easy for any of them, firing on our own."

"It wasn't exactly fun, sir," Tooru admitted, grimacing.

There hadn't been a major conflict in three years, not since the Second Neo Zeon Conflict in 0093. Tooru had built his reputation in that fight, and had worked hard to maintain it since, but their usual operations these days were limited to mopping up delusional Neo Zeon holdouts and dealing with the occasional band of smugglers or pirates. With them, it was easy to tell who the enemy was, and defeating them was simply a matter of applying the right blend of overwhelming firepower and superior tactics.

Today was different. Going up against mobile suits that still flagged as friendly on their systems, suits identical to their own... and to do that while trying _not_ to inflict any casualties? It was probably the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

And then to discover that _Tobio fucking Kageyama_ was one of them!

Mizoguchi spun around. "It's not meant to be _fun_ , Oikawa. You had a job to do and you failed to do it. Now the _Karasuno_ is out of range, hightailing it to who knows where." He scowled and smacked his fist against his other palm. "At least next time we can take off the gloves. No more playing nice with those scumbag traitors."

Tooru looked from Mizoguchi to Irihata in confusion.

"New standing orders," Irihata explained wearily. "All those who refuse orders — and anyone who aids them — are to be treated as renegades no different from pirates, and dealt with accordingly. If they surrender, then they'll be court-martialled and probably executed. If they don't surrender..." He shrugged.

"Then we skip the court-martial and execute them on the spot," Mizoguchi said. "It's inexcusable! They have a duty to obey orders — they can't simply walk away when they don't like one of them. You don't get to pick and choose — that's not the way it works."

"Are we to pursue them, sir?" Tooru ventured, trying to change the subject before Mizoguchi could build up any more steam.

"No," Irihata said, moving around the desk to sit down in his chair. "Not immediately, at least. Sector HQ is putting together a task force and we'll probably be part of it, but we're no use until your mobile suits are repaired and we've had a chance to resupply." He steepled his fingers together and stared over them at Tooru. "Go check on your team and put together a list of what you need to get your suits back up and running. You might also want to think about some new training simulations; we're going to need to adapt our tactics in future."

Saluting, Tooru nodded and left the office. Once the hatch slid shut, he paused to lean back against the bulkhead and let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

"That bad, huh?"

Tooru tilted his head to scowl at Iwa. "You know what Mizoguchi's like. You'll no doubt be happy to hear that we're a disgrace to our uniforms and that we should hang our heads in shame, et cetera, et cetera."

Iwa was leaning against the opposite bulkhead a couple of metres away, his arms and legs crossed. "Good to know." He straightened up, letting his arms fall to his sides, but Tooru didn't miss the way he momentarily clenched his fists. "So, are we going after them?"

Tooru shook his head. "Not right now. We need repairs first."

"Pity. I wouldn't mind a second crack at those Karasuno clowns."

They set off towards the briefing room where the other pilots awaited, except for the couple that had been sent to the sick bay — Watari with a possible concussion and Kyoutani with minor lacerations. Considering how brutal the fight had been, it could have been worse. _Much_ worse.

"Damn them for putting us in that situation in the first place," Tooru hissed, stabbing his fingers into his hair and combing through it forcefully. Things were crazy enough already without getting into fights with fellow pilots. Everything was spiralling out of control; he could feel it, like the first fitful gusts of an oncoming storm.

Iwa grunted in agreement. He scratched the back of his head as he walked, hesitating, and gave Tooru a sideways look. "The team's pretty shaken up, you know."

As if Tooru needed telling. "I know, Iwa." He tried a chuckle, though it came out hollow. "We're used to winning, after all."

"You know what I meant. The rumours about the rioting in the colony hasn't helped. Dozens of casualties, apparently. They've only just started letting people out of the shelters."

They fell silent as they walked, passing a pair of tense crewmembers heading the other way. Everyone on the entire ship was anxious and on edge, but the mobile suit team was at the forefront of it all. They were the tip of the spear, the first into action; usually that meant they got most of the glory and reaped most of the rewards, but today it meant they were suffering the most from the uncertainty. He'd have to think of something truly inspiring to tell them before he reached the briefing room, but he could barely calm his own mind, let alone theirs.

The events in the colony had come as a shock. Phoenix Colony was a pleasant, welcoming place, if a little too rustic and downmarket for Tooru's tastes. He was extremely grateful that his team hadn't been amongst those sent into the colony to "restore law and order", but that didn't forgive the _Karasuno_ 's actions. Mizoguchi was right about one thing: they all had a responsibility to see things through, to do their best to help de-escalate the situation the whole military had found themselves in, but instead the _Karasuno_ had chosen to abandon that responsibility. In the process they were only making things worse. Units going rogue like that were bound to provoke even more extreme reactions from whoever was in charge now.

Tooru really needed some time to figure out a strategy. Unfortunately, he was unlikely to get it.

And one particular irritant didn't help. It was like a pebble in his shoe, or an eyelash stuck in his eye: a constant distraction. "Tobio was one of the Karasuno pilots, you know."

"Who?" Iwa asked, frowning.

"My mortal enemy, Tobio Kageyama," Tooru said, adopting an offended expression. "Don't tell me you've forgotten him already, Iwa."

Iwa snorted. "You have so many mortal enemies. I lose track sometimes." He shook his head as if regretting what he was about to ask. "So was this the one who accidentally insulted you, or the one who later started seeing your ex?"

"Neither," Tooru said, throwing in an indignant flick of his hair for good measure. "I can't believe you don't remember him. A mean face with a stupid black bowl cut, all gangly limbs and a dopey expression like a caveman being confronted with fire for the first time."

"Wait, you mean that kid from Kitagawa?" Iwa said, puzzled. "Okay, so what was this particular vendetta was about again?"

"He beat my record, Iwa!" Tooru complained, gesticulating with his hands. He dearly wished Tobio was there in front of him right now so he could wrap them around his neck and _squeeze_ until those dull eyes of his popped right out of his stupid, thick skull. "The record that had stood for years until that arrogant upstart had the _audacity —"_

Iwa laughed. "Oh, _that_ guy. The one that set the new record for the Maze simulation. Didn't he come to ask you for advice on it too?"

"He did! I took time out of my valuable career to return to my dear alma mater and pass on some of my hard-won expertise —" he yelped as Iwa thumped him on the arm. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You know what it was for."

"So mean, Iwa!" Rubbing his arm and making a face at Iwa, Tooru toned it down a little. "Yes, he asked for advice. He was in the advanced class I was guest tutoring, so that makes sense — I mean, that's why I was there, for them to —"

"To inflate your ego, yes," Iwa said.

"— to _learn_ from the best," Tooru said, raising his voice to speak over him, "but the rest did it respectfully. 'Oh great Oikawa, please bless me with a mote of your infinite wisdom!'" He managed to dodge Iwa's follow up punch, dancing out of range as he continued. "But not this kid, not Tobio. He flat out said 'Please tell me how to beat your record for the Maze'! Where is the respect, I ask you?!"

The Maze was the most feared training exercise at Kitagawa Military Academy. Would-be pilots had to negotiate a dense obstacle field, full of fast moving debris that would pulverise a mobile suit, while flying through a series of holographic hoops and shooting at simulated weapons platforms that were scattered throughout the course. It was notoriously difficult and few pilots even made it to the end, let alone set a competitive score, which was based on a combination of time and number of weapons platforms destroyed, with penalties for any damage or missed hoops.

Topping the table for the Maze had been one of Tooru's proudest accomplishments at the Academy. He'd figured his record would stand for another decade at least, but then Tobio Kageyama came along. He didn't just break his record, he did it _while Tooru watched_. Even now, Tooru sometimes woke up in a cold sweat at night remembering it.

He shivered. "He's a little punk who should have been kicked out after what he did. But if I thought I hated him before, I truly, deeply despise him now that he _shot at me_."

Iwa narrowed his eyes. "He was the one that hit your suit? How do you know?"

"No, he was in the second Conductor," Tooru said. "The one using the target painters. And he actually _spoke_ to me, the bastard."

He should have known once Kindaichi and Kunimi had been painted and shot up; Tobio had tried to use similar tactics back at Kitagawa, except back then all he'd achieved was to piss off the rest of his squad by complaining when they couldn't keep up with his idiotic moves. Nobody used target painters like that in a real fight.

Which meant Tobio had found someone who _could_ keep up with him. That was worrying.

Especially since that pilot, whoever it was, had been the one to shoot off his mobile suit's hand. His prototype, specially customised suit. It was an insult of the highest order.

They'd arrived at the briefing room and Tooru stopped outside, taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. He had appearances to maintain, after all. It wouldn't do the team any good to see him out of sorts.

Because as much as he hated to admit it, Mizoguchi was right. He _was_ supposed to be one of the elite — an ace.

And he'd failed.

 


	3. Expectations

Tobio lay on the bunk inside his new quarters aboard _Karasuno,_ hands folded under his head as he tried in vain to fall asleep. It was a small cabin, not much bigger than the bunk itself, though it somehow still managed to cram a small desk, chair, and a narrow closet into the space, along with a few drawers under the bunk. At least he didn't have to share anymore; one of the perks of being a fully-fledged mobile suit pilot, he guessed.

But even though the space wasn't exactly big, it felt... empty, somehow. Like he was unable to fill it by himself. He half expected his voice would echo if he spoke aloud.

Not that he had much to fill it with. Due to the ship's hasty departure from Phoenix Colony, his only belongings were what he'd had with him when he boarded: one set of sweaty running clothes, a military-issue personal datapad, and a mostly empty bottle of energy drink. The bottle now sat on the small desk opposite. To that he'd added a new uniform, his new (offensively bright) orange pilot suit, and a standard issue military pressure suit for shipboard use.

That was it. Everything he owned.

He sat up, growling with frustration. He knew what his mind was doing. Even growing up he hadn't needed many belongings; a childhood spent bouncing between military bases, various relatives, and boarding schools had taught him to travel light. Even during his time at Kitagawa Academy, he hadn't had much more stuff that he had now. Besides, he'd never seen the point in collecting a bunch of useless junk, like the other cadets seemed so fond of. What good did it do anyone? It was just more luggage, more anchors to drag you down.

But focusing on his immediate situation stopped him thinking about everything that was going on. About the fact that his first real taste of action had been to turn his weapons on fellow soldiers.

He didn't regret his decision to stay aboard the _Karasuno_ , not really. The idea of using force against civilians didn't sit right with him, especially not after what he'd seen at the park. And it's not like he could really have refused his new captain or his new team leader; he'd had obedience drilled into him from a young age. But along with that obedience were endless lessons about the importance of discipline and the chain of command, and the fact that the _Karasuno_ had broken that chain — and defied orders — left him uneasy and struggling with his conscience. It went against the grain to disobey any order, even if the rest of his shipmates were doing the same thing. He felt like he was adrift at sea, fighting to stay afloat and grabbing at whatever he could to support himself.

Commander Sawamura had told them all to get some rest, but that was easier said than done. Tobio's usual calm concentration had been shattered, like someone had turned his skull into a blender, and all of the crazy experiences of the last 24 hours were swirling around and around in his mind.

With a defeated sigh, he stood up and threw on some clothes. If he wasn't going to sleep, he might as well do something more productive, so he set off to locate the ship's mobile suit simulators.

Almost all mobile suit carriers had a suite of simulators for training purposes, and the _Karasuno_ was no different. Essentially generic copies of mobile suit cockpits, they allowed pilots to train together without having to take out actual mobile suits. In Tobio's opinion there was no substitute for the real thing, but there were plenty of scenarios that would be dangerous or impossible to experience otherwise. If military academies threw their cadets straight into real mobile suits from day 1, they would lose hundreds of mobile suits — and quite a few cadets — every year. Instead, training on simulators meant cadets could make mistakes without expensive or even fatal consequences, and practice with real mobile suits was mostly limited to the last few months of training or special events.

Even so, accidents still happened.

They could also simulate previous battles, letting you analyse your enemy's tactics and learn from your mistakes by trying out new ideas, and that's what Tobio had in mind right then. He knew Oikawa well enough to know that he wouldn't simply give up, and if the _Karasuno_ were to face him again, they'd need to be prepared.

Tobio was still learning his way around the ship, but he knew the way back to the hangars now and the naval architects who designed the _Karasuno_ had had the foresight to put the simulators nearby, so he stumbled upon them quite quickly. It was a long, cramped room, situated in the zero gravity area of the ship. Parallel rows of spherical simulator pods lined the walls, like a box of metallic eggs that had each been cracked open in the middle; at the far end was the control console, used to set up the scenarios and provide an overview of the simulations running.

To his surprise, two of the pods were sealed, meaning they were in use. Tobio went over to the console to take a look. One pod was checked out to someone called Lieutenant Asahi Azumane, who'd apparently had the same idea and was reviewing the battle against Aobajohsai earlier. The other was checked out to Ensign Shouyou Hinata, who was busy blasting away at a bunch of Zeon 'Hizack' mobile suits in a standard shoot-'em-up simulation.

A sly grin crept its way across Tobio's face as he tapped a few commands into the console, programming another pod to enter the same simulation — on the opposing side — without notifying Hinata. Tobio wasn't used to piloting non-Federation mobile suits, simulated or otherwise, but he was confident he could still beat Hinata even so.

Climbing into the pod, he settled into the harness as the pod sealed itself, plunging him into darkness for a second until the panoramic displays flickered to life. Being in a mobile suit cockpit — even a simulated one — was like coming home; he felt more comfortable there than just about anywhere else, connected to his suit in ways he found it hard to explain. He gripped the well-worn controls, getting a feel for them, as a countdown ticked away in front of him, and then smiled as his mobile suit appeared in the simulated battle.

Hinata was a dozen kilometres away, piloting a normal Avenger. Although designed to operate together with other RHQ units like Tobio's Conductor, the Avenger was still a highly capable mobile suit even solo, and despite being outnumbered 3 to 1, Hinata was having no trouble dealing with the old-fashioned Hizacks. It wasn't a challenging setup; Hinata was probably just using it to blow off steam.

So it was time to even the odds. Hinata hadn't responded in any way to his arrival, so he probably hadn't even noticed Tobio yet — tunnel vision, no doubt. Amateur! Still, Hinata's preoccupation gave Tobio an advantage, so he fired up his thrusters and lined up a long range shot on Hinata. It wasn't easy; Hinata was darting around rapidly as he evaded the other three mobile suits, but Tobio watched carefully for a minute to get a feel for his movements. When Hinata flew in a straight line for a second too long, Tobio snapped off a shot.

The particle blast hit, though it didn't do any critical damage. Now aware of the new threat, Hinata immediately flew off in a random direction, entering a corkscrew manoeuvre to make himself a more difficult target. He somehow managed to blast one of the pursuing Hizacks along the way, so Tobio gave chase as well, firing a few more shots to keep Hinata off-balance.

Abruptly, Hinata's mobile suit changed direction. It was still jinking back and forth, its armoured shield catching any stray shots that got too close, but now it was closing fast on the other mobile suits instead of fleeing from them.

"What are you up to?" Tobio muttered to himself, frowning.

He got his answer as Hinata plunged head-on into the trio of pursuers. Tobio managed to land another glancing hit in the process, but Hinata took advantage of the close quarters to keep one of the Hizacks between Tobio and himself while blasting the other Hizack with his particle rifle. Even as Tobio tried to clear his line of fire, Hinata zoomed up to the remaining Hizack, slicing off one arm with his beam sabre.

Whoever had programmed the Hizacks' AI hadn't done a particularly good job, as Hinata's unexpected close range attack had apparently confused the Hizacks; they were slow to react. Even so, Tobio was surprised; Hinata was lasting longer than he expected. He was very fast, always moving, and that made him dangerously unpredictable.

Even so, Tobio was determined to get him; his blood was really pumping now and he gritted his teeth as he closed in on his prey. While Hinata wrestled with the remaining Hizack, smashing its head and using its crippled body as a shield, Tobio kept firing, sending lances of charged particles searing through space. Hinata's return shots went wide, and when Tobio landed a hit on the Hizack, Hinata flung the mobile suit towards him just as it exploded.

The flash of the explosion momentarily blinded Tobio, which was why he was startled to find Hinata's Avenger racing through the wreckage towards him a moment later. He was charging straight for Tobio at top speed, not even bothering to evade. Was Hinata trying to _ram_ him? Had he lost his mind?! The simulator pod's harness shuddered realistically as Tobio's mobile suit took damage, one of Hinata's shots smashing into it, but Tobio recovered quickly and dodged to the side at the last second, turning a head-on collision into a glancing blow and firing rapidly as Hinata sailed past.

It was enough to finish the fight. Sparks and smoke billowed from Hinata's Avenger before it vanished in another explosion.

Hinata was already floating towards Tobio's simulator pod even as the roof began to rise.

"You _bastard_!" he yelled. "I knew it had to be you. No AI flies like that."

Tobio calmly unfastened his harness and slipped out of the pod. "Those Hizacks weren't giving you a challenge at all. What's the point of training against easy opponents? You learn nothing."

Hinata waved his arms angrily, causing him to spin around in the zero gravity until he gripped the edge of the pod to steady himself. "I just wanted to have a bit of fun, that's all! You didn't need to gatecrash and turn it into a life or death situation!"

"Combat is always a life or death situation," Tobio said, puzzled. "That's the point."

"Ugh! You're so _annoying_ ," Hinata groaned, pushing himself towards the deck so his magnetic soles could make contact. Tobio did the same, coming to a stop a couple of paces away. Only then did he realise how agitated Hinata was, his face red and his untamed hair even messier than usual. His eyes looked puffy too.

"Were you _crying_?" he asked, surprised.

Hinata folded his arms and turned away. "Of course not," he snapped. "I'm just tired."

"You should sleep then. We're pilots, remember. We could get sent out at any time, so we need to be ready."

"I know that, Kageyama!" Hinata snapped. "I couldn't sleep, okay?" He swore under his breath and rubbed at his eyes with both hands. "I just keep thinking of the park. I hope Natsu's okay."

Tobio looked away, uncomfortable. "You left her safe in the shelter, didn't you? You should stop worrying. There's nothing you can do for her now anyway."

Hinata fixed him with a disbelieving stare, his mouth open slightly, like Tobio had just grown horns or sprouted wings. "You really are heartless, aren't you? She's my little _sister!_ "

The tips of Tobio's ears burned. He hadn't meant it like that. "It doesn't make sense to worry about things you can't change," he said, trying to explain. "We need to focus on what comes next. We should train."

"I was, until you came along and interrupted me!" Hinata said, exasperated. He jabbed a finger into Kageyama's chest. "Fine. Let's train. But this time I'll be the one to destroy _you_."

Since Hinata was present, Tobio had been thinking of testing out that target painting trick again, but he was never one to refuse a challenge. "You're on," he growled, already turning back towards his simulator pod.

They fought for nearly three hours.

Again and again and again they duelled, sometimes with teams, sometimes solo, in all sorts of different combat environments — empty space, cluttered debris fields, in the midst of a huge fleet battle, even inside a colony. Tobio lost only twice: once when Hinata ambushed him in a debris field and once when Hinata landed a lucky shot and crippled his mobile suit early on. The rest of the time, Hinata lost — but even Tobio had to admit he was putting up a good fight.

Tobio was a better pilot than anyone else he'd met. That wasn't arrogance: it was simple fact. He'd devoted virtually his entire life working towards that singular goal. None of the other students at Kitagawa Academy could compete with him and by the time he'd graduated he was fairly sure he'd surpassed most of the instructors too. The only person he'd met who had come close was Oikawa, an experienced combat veteran. They hadn't duelled against each other back then, but Tobio had beaten most of his records and Oikawa had retreated from their recent battle, so he was reasonably confident that he also outmatched Oikawa now, at least one-on-one.

He knew he wasn't perfect. Raw talent was important, but it had to be shaped and tempered by experience to become true skill. That was why he trained so hard, why he strove to learn as much as he could from veterans and other skilled pilots. He wanted to become the best — he _had_ to become the best — and he knew that would only be possible if he worked at it.

Yet no matter how obvious the gap in skill was between them, no matter how many times Tobio beat him, Hinata kept on fighting. Before his mobile suit even finished exploding, he would demand another scenario. "One more!" he would say. "Again!" And so they would enter another battle, fighting as hard as they could, without holding back. Hinata approached each battle as though it was his last, taking it just as seriously as he would real combat. And while Tobio was undeniably the better pilot, Hinata was good enough that he couldn't let his guard down for even a moment.

Tobio had never experienced anything like it.

It was exhilarating.

It was _exhausting_.

And so when the flames once more engulfed Hinata's mobile suit, with Tobio's shaky fingers still hovering over the trigger, he activated the comm. "Enough!" he gasped. "That's enough, Hinata! We both need a break."

" _Speak for yourself, Wimpyama! I could do this all day_."

But Tobio heard Hinata panting, heard the tremble of exhaustion in his voice. "We have to report to Commander Sawamura in less than two hours," he said. "If you want to keep on training right up until then, fine, but I don't want to report in looking like I just ran a marathon."

"A _ww, can't take any more? Poor Kageyama! Guess that means I win after all._ "

A growl forced its way up Kageyama's throat. Hinata was driving him _insane_. "I can keep this up as long as you can!"

" _Then one more!_ "

"Fine! One more!"

A new voice sounded over the channel. " _No, I think you've both had enough for now_ ," Sawamura said pleasantly. " _Please exit your simulator pods_."

Tobio's stomach lurched, like gravity had suddenly grabbed his internal organs while somehow ignoring the rest of him. "Yes sir!"

He flicked the switch to shut down the simulator and open the pod, then wiped his forehead on his sleeve. It came away damp.

So much for taking a shower before reporting to his new commander.

Sawamura, Suga, and another pilot — tall, with a small beard on his chin — were clustered around the control console. They'd obviously been watching on the monitors.

Trying not to show how shaky he was, Tobio climbed out of the pod and floated over, saluting as he settled onto the deck. He was glad of the zero gravity because otherwise his knees might have given way.

Hinata was in an even worse state, pale and drenched with sweat, but he stopped beside Tobio with a pleased expression. Why the hell did he look so happy after losing so badly?

Suga spoke first. There were dark shadows under his eyes but despite that he was smiling brightly. "We appreciate your determination and fighting spirit," he said gently, "but we don't want you to pass out in the simulators."

"We're in uncharted waters here," Sawamura said. "We don't know what we're going to face next, so Captain Ukai wants all pilots on standby. Which is why I told you all to get some rest." At this he gave them both a stern glare.

Hinata shrank back, stammering. "S-sorry sir! We couldn't sleep so we thought we'd do something useful in the meantime, that's all."

Sawamura's glare softened. "That's understandable," he said. "You've both been through a lot in a very short time. But working yourselves to exhaustion isn't the solution. Asahi says you've been at this for _hours_."

The tall pilot gave them an apologetic look and nodded. "I don't know when they started exactly, but it must have been at least two hours ago." He blinked and rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, um, sorry. I don't think we've been introduced yet. I'm Asahi Azumane. You can just call me Asahi though."

"Nice to meet you Asahi!" Hinata said cheerfully. "You're a mobile suit pilot too?"

"Yes," Asahi replied. "I'm in Avenger 3."

"Oh, like me! I'm Avenger 10," Hinata said, wiping his palms on his trousers and then shaking Asahi's hand eagerly. Asahi looked rather taken aback, which brought a grin to Suga's face.

"This is Shouyou Hinata," Suga explained. "Our newest attack pilot." He gestured to Tobio. "And Tobio Kageyama, our new coordinator."

Tobio just nodded, which Asahi seemed grateful for; he was still eyeing Hinata with a nervous smile, as though he were an energetic puppy trying to jump up and lick his face.

"That was some impressive flying from you both," Asahi said. "I was watching for a while and you were both going all out. I can't believe you had the stamina to keep it up so long."

"It was fun!" Hinata said, beaming. Tobio's fingers twitched; he wanted to throttle him. _Fun_?!

Sawamura cleared his throat. "I'm glad I have both of you together, because I was meaning to talk to you about the target painting trick you pulled off against Aobajohsai." He narrowed his eyes at Tobio, considering, then moved on to Hinata. "Was it a fluke, or do you think you can do it again?"

"I think so, sir," Tobio replied, though he couldn't be sure until they tried it. "As long as Hinata can keep up, at least."

It wasn't exactly _easy_ on Tobio's part — he needed pinpoint aim to fix the laser target designators, all while getting ready to block any return fire, managing his sensors and other systems, and preparing to light up the next target — but for it to work, it relied on another pilot (Hinata, in this case) being fast enough to take the shot before the enemy pilot could react.

He'd come up with the idea back at Kitagawa, but back then he hadn't been able to pull it off successfully even once. Trying it again in the previous battle had only been a spur of the moment thing, the fact that he was fighting against Oikawa bringing back memories of the Academy and reminding him of it. But the gamble had paid off, even if he was somewhat unsettled that it was Hinata of all people who had somehow been able to make it work — and not just once, but multiple times. Either way, Tobio was keen to try it out some more.

"If Kageyama can do it, I can do it," Hinata said immediately, standing straight and proud.

Tobio glared down at him, irritated at his bravado, but Sawamura spoke before he could snap at the other rookie.

"Then I'd like you both to work together to perfect the technique," he said. "It was extremely effective and could provide a powerful weapon for the team." With a wry smile, he looked them both up and down and added, "Though don't start that right now. You both stink and look ready to drop. Get cleaned up, grab some food, and _please_ take a break. Then I'll see you both at 0900."

"Yes sir!" Tobio said, Hinata echoing him.

 

* * *

 

 "They're an odd duo, aren't they?" Suga commented as they watched the two pilots depart, still bickering.

Wearing a pained smile, Daichi nodded slowly. "They're definitely going to be a handful."

Jabbing him in the side, Suga laughed. "Nothing we can't handle, right?"

"Let's hope so." Daichi turned back to view the monitors, where the results of their duels were tallied up: 14 battles, 12 of which were victories for Kageyama. "They have a lot of potential, assuming we can knock them into shape."

Asahi shifted, puzzled. "How so? I was watching — they're both good pilots already, Kageyama especially." Scarily good, in fact; Asahi privately doubted he could have done much better than Hinata had done, and he had several years of experience to draw upon.

Suga let out a small sigh. "Daichi took something of a chance on them both when he selected them to join the team."

That sounded vaguely ominous. He knew that the _Karasuno_ wasn't regarded as one of the top tier ships these days; it was old, its refit long overdue, and the best new pilots were usually cherry-picked by the elite mobile suit teams. And there had been peace for long enough now that the fleet was shrinking again and recruitment was being scaled back, so there weren't as many to choose from in the first place. But surely Daichi wouldn't have chosen pilots that were going to be trouble, right?

Daichi saw his expression and smiled. "Have a little faith, Asahi," he said. "I didn't recruit a batch of criminals or crazies."

"...Well..." Suga said slowly, his expression twisting into something between a smirk and a wince.

Asahi gulped. "Daichi, please tell me I'm not going to get murdered in my cabin by one of the rookies?!" Kageyama certainly had the look — tall, dark, and brooding — but maybe Hinata was the type to kill you with a cheerful smile.

Laughing, Daichi pushed off and headed for the exit. "Don't be so melodramatic, Asahi," he said as they followed him. "I'm just trying a more radical strategy to build up the team, that's all."

"What he means," Suga translated as they turned down the corridor to head to the gravity blocks, "is that he took on the best pilots he could that nobody else wanted."

That still didn't sound much better. "So why didn't anyone else want them?"

They stopped outside the large hatch to the gravity section and waited for it to swish open. "You've met Tsukishima, haven't you?" Suga said, definitely smirking this time. "One of his academy supervisors commented in his file that having Tsukishima in your team is like having a stone in your shoe — irritating and impossible to ignore."

"You've seen their files?" Asahi asked, surprised. "I thought they were all confidential."

"Of course!" Suga replied, winking. "But Daichi values my keen instincts for people. Plus he knows better than to keep secrets from me." He patted Asahi on the back as he gripped the ladder down to the gravity block, sending him drifting forwards. "You should see what Noya's file says!"

Asahi grabbed onto a handrail and stopped. "Have you seen _my_ file?" he asked quietly.

Suga's expression changed immediately and he paused his climb down to look back up at him. "Yes," he said, "but there's really nothing to worry about. Right, Daichi?"

"Right," Daichi replied from further down the tunnel. "Not that it would matter if it did. I prefer to judge people first-hand rather than rely on someone else's faulty opinions."

"Which is exactly the point," Suga said, continuing his climb. "It's not even as though we're giving them second chances; we chose people that nobody had even given first chances to before." Asahi followed, feeling the familiar tug of spin gravity return as he neared the end of the tunnel. He landed unsteadily and pressed a hand to his stomach, wondering just what his file contained, how many psychiatric evaluations filled its pages.

He couldn't help but wonder if the same had been true for him, back when Daichi had been given command of the _Karasuno_ 's mobile suit team. If Daichi had only requested him for his new team out of friendship. Or worse, out of pity. Because who else would have taken him?

They stood aside to let a pair of technicians climb up, then headed towards the pilot's mess. They always ate breakfast together before and after a mission; it was tradition. Not that Asahi ever had much appetite at such times.

"There's no ulterior motive," Daichi explained. "But given the choice between a mediocre pilot with mediocre recommendations and a good pilot who has been written off for one reason or another, I'd rather take a chance on the latter. And it's worked so far, right? Just look at Noya."

Noya was undoubtedly their most talented pilot, that was true. And even if he made Asahi uneasy at times, he was also an undeniably good person. He was just a bit... excitable. "You're talking about his disciplinary action," Asahi said.

Daichi nodded. "A black mark like that in his file means that other commanders dismiss him as a troublemaker. They don't care about the circumstances of the incident, or about all the good things he's done before or since."

The mess was still empty — most of the rest of the team was probably still asleep, or just waking up. Well, except for that crazy new duo, but from what Suga had told him of their story, it was no wonder they'd had difficulty sleeping. Asahi fetched some coffee from the machine and something to nibble on, taking a seat while the other two got their own breakfasts.

"Do I even want to know what the newbies did to get shuffled to the bottom of the pile?" he asked, sipping the coffee. His guts were still tying themselves in knots, but the warmth of the drink soothed them a little.

Suga sat down opposite him with a plate of milk bread, tearing a chunk off to slather with butter. "Sorry," he said, grinning. "It's confidential."

"Nothing too bad," Daichi assured him, joining them with a bowl of instant broth. "It's just that, like most people, they're not perfect. That might disqualify them in the eyes of the elite mobile suit teams like Shiratorizawa, but sometimes a gem simply needs a little more polishing for it to shine as brightly as the others."

"You're very poetic this morning, Daichi," Suga said, elbowing him. His eyes twinkled like gems themselves as he smiled mischievously across at Asahi. "Daichi wouldn't let me read his file. Maybe it's full of complaints from his past commanders, all saying that he makes a better poet than a pilot."

A hint of red dusted Daichi's cheeks. "Don't forget, I've also seen _your_ file."

Suga clasped his hands together as though he was about to pray and stared at the ceiling. "Why Daichi, we both know that my file is full of nothing but praise for me. I'm a perfect angel, after all."

A grin crept across Asahi's face at Daichi's sceptical raised eyebrow, and he realised that the churning in his stomach had lessened. If fighting was about to break out once more, at least he would face it beside his best friends. And Suga always did have a talent for distracting him when his nerves started to get the better of him.

Then the hatch swung open behind him and he choked on his coffee as Noya suddenly yelled, "YO! Asahi!", and used his shoulders as a springboard to leap into the air. Noya was always that way; he only got more energetic as tensions rose, like a child counting down to his birthday. Sometimes Asahi even wondered whether they could use Noya to power the whole ship by wiring him up to the reactor somehow.

"Good morning, Noya, Kinoshita," Daichi said, nodding at the newcomers and giving Asahi a sympathetic glance. "You're awake earlier than usual."

Kinoshita stifled a yawn as he squinted at the drinks machine and jabbed in an order for a large cup of strong coffee. "Define 'awake'."

Noya bounced past him, getting to work on preparing a mountain of food. Asahi had no idea how such a small person could eat so much, let alone not throw it up again afterwards whenever his suit made a high-g manoeuvre. "We're finally seeing some real action," he said cheerfully. "How could I sleep?"

He perched cross-legged at the next table, diagonally across from Asahi, and dug into his food. Just watching him made Asahi feel slightly ill. "Don't you ever get nervous, Noya?" he asked, partly out of exasperation and partly out of envy.

"Not since I was a kid," he said cheerfully, his mouth still full of pasta. "Besides, what do I have to be nervous about? I've got the Ace of Karasuno flying beside me, right?"

Asahi hunched his shoulders and looked away.

Ace. The word stung him every time he heard it, echoing in his ears mockingly. But the worst thing was that when Noya said it, he meant it wholeheartedly.

"I'm not an ace, Noya," he said for the thousandth time.

"You're too humble for your own good, Asahi," Noya said — again, not for the first time. "If I was an ace like you, I'd be bragging about it to every person I met."

Suga caught Asahi's eye, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head fractionally in Noya's direction. Asahi knew what he was asking: _Do you want me to distract him?_

Asahi shook his head, though he gave Suga a small smile of gratitude. He was never comfortable dealing with Noya's misplaced admiration, but if Asahi couldn't deal with something so trivial by himself, how was he supposed to be able to handle himself in a battle?

"If there's a fight ahead," he said, "it'll be with Federation soldiers. The last thing anyone should want is to become a famous ace by shooting fellow pilots."

Noya paused mid-chew, looking like he'd just bit his tongue. He swallowed guiltily and offered Asahi an apologetic smile. "Good point," he admitted. "I guess it's not the same as blasting Neo Zeon mobile suits, is it?"

"We're fighting Neo Zeon?" Yamaguchi asked as he slipped through the still-open hatch. He paused, scanning the room and giving them a nervous smile, before shuffling past to the serving hatch. "Ah, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"I was talking about Asahi and the last war," Noya said, twisting in his seat to keep Yamaguchi in view. "Have I told you the stories yet?"

Asahi covered his eyes with a hand and sighed. "Please, Noya, now isn't really the time..."

"Course it is! We want our rookies to be inspired, don't we?" Noya said. "It'll boost morale!" "

"I think more sleep would boost morale," Kinoshita mumbled. He still looked barely awake, his head resting in one hand and his steaming coffee clutched in the other. His eyes were shut and if he hadn't spoken aloud, Asahi would have believed he'd actually fallen asleep.

Yamaguchi looked politely interested as he sat next to Kinoshita, making sure not to disturb the dozy pilot. Like Asahi, he'd foregone food, limiting himself to a glass of milk. "What stories?"

"About Asahi becoming an ace!" Noya replied. "He was at the Battle of Axis three years ago, fighting against Neo Zeon."

"Really?" Yamaguchi gasped, turning to him with wide eyes. Asahi shrugged helplessly in return, hoping he wasn't blushing too badly.

He managed to tune most of it out as Noya spun his stories, keeping his eyes on the table and trying to keep his mind blank. It's not as though what Noya was saying was wrong, exactly; it's just that he hadn't been there, and he couldn't understand what it had been like. Noya was just young enough that he hadn't fought in a major conflict, but he was old enough to have been near the end of his training during the last one. From what Asahi had heard, Noya had followed the one-sided reports of events from his academy dorm, celebrating victories with his fellow cadets, and as such tended to romanticise it: the glory of defeating Zeon once and for all, for saving the Earth from the extinction-level event that would have occurred had the giant asteroid, Axis, actually collided with it as the Neo Zeon forces had intended.

For Noya, that was enough: a worthy cause, strong opponents, and a clear victory.

But Asahi _had_ been there, as had Daichi and Suga. As wet behind the ears as Yamaguchi was now. And there had been no glory, no valiant stand against the forces of tyranny. Just one terrifying fight for survival after another while a madman tried to drop an asteroid onto Earth. Asahi had destroyed five enemy mobile suits during those horrific battles, unofficially granting him the dubious status of 'ace', but it's not like he'd set out to achieve that. It had just been a case of killing them before they killed him, and he'd had to live with the nightmares ever since.

And the Second Neo Zeon Conflict had lasted a mere two weeks. He hoped he never lived to see a full-scale war like the One Year War twenty years ago.

He drained his coffee and stood, unable to listen to any more. Noya stopped mid-flow, looking up in surprise. "Where are you going? I was just getting to the good parts!"

"Sorry," Asahi said, shaking his head. "Got things to do."

He staggered out of the mess, feeling dizzy, and stumbled to a stop further down the corridor, bending double with his hands on his knees until his breathing slowed. He was still in that position when two legs stopped beside him.

"How are you feeling?" Daichi asked quietly, dropping into a crouch next to him.

"It'll pass," Asahi replied breathlessly. "It always does in the end."

"You could talk to him about it, you know," Daichi said. "Try to make him understand. He doesn't mean any harm, after all."

Asahi huffed with disbelief. "I know that. But he wouldn't listen. Besides, who am I to take away his stories? If they help him, help others, then I can deal with it."

Daichi sighed and patted him on the back before straightening up. "Well, you know what I think. But I'll leave the choice to you."

"Thanks, Daichi," Asahi said, standing as well. "I'm glad I've got you and Suga with me."

_I'm glad you understand._

 

* * *

 

"So what happened then, Lieutenant?" Yamaguchi asked.

Yuu turned back from the hatch where Asahi had left — was he feeling ill? — and tried to pick up his train of thought again. "Uh... oh yeah, then once they managed to break away from the Neo Zeon mobile suits chasing them, they hid in a small crater on the surface of the asteroid. And as the Neo Zeon suits caught up, they flew right overhead!" He leaned back in his chair and used his arms to simulate a particle rifle firing into the air. "Bam bam bam! Took 'em completely by surprise and wiped 'em all out. Genius!"

Yamaguchi's eyes were wide as Yuu settled back in his seat with a grin. It'd been the moment when Asahi had earnt his fifth kill and become an 'ace'. If only Yuu had been there to see it for himself! It must have been awesome.

"It was Daichi's idea," Suga added, smiling over his cup of tea. "Probably what earnt him his promotion." He scratched his cheek and glanced at Yuu. "Of course, it wasn't quite as simple or easy as Noya makes out."

Yuu waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I know, but it's a better story this way! It's not as inspiring if you get bogged down in all the details."

"Details?" Yamaguchi prompted.

"Like having to persuade their commander that standing their ground and fighting in the open when outnumbered two-to-one isn't the brightest idea," Hisashi said, stifling a yawn. He had his eyes closed as he sipped his strong coffee, still half-asleep. The sight reminded Yuu of his Gramps on the morning after a night out at the bar, nursing a hangover, and he smiled to himself.

"You guys should have just left your commander to try out that plan on his own," he said, folding his arms. "See how that worked out for him."

Suga gave him a weary look. "We were outnumbered and just about out of options. It's hard to blame him for a moment of desperation, and despite what Kinoshita said, he agreed quickly enough once Daichi explained." He sipped some tea and added, "Besides, the hard part was getting out of sight. We had to fly low and fast, skimming just over the surface of the asteroid. It was terrifying!"

Sawamura chose that moment to re-enter the mess. "What was terrifying?" he asked as he returned to stand by the table. He'd already finished his meal, so he began clearing up.

"Accelerating ten metres above the surface of an asteroid," Suga said, before raising an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

Sawamura gave him a brief shake of the head and then sighed. "Still talking about the battle, are we?" he said. He fixed his gaze on Yamaguchi. "Don't let them fool you. Most of the time we were just doing whatever it took to survive. There wasn't anything glorious about it."

Yuu bit back his instinctive reaction, not wanting to contradict his commander — or at least not _this_ commander, since he had a lot of respect for Sawamura. But he couldn't not say _something._ "You guys are always so humble about it. Don't you ever feel like bragging? Not even a little?"

Suga and Sawamura exchanged glances. "Not really," they said together. But then a mischievous smile broke out on Suga's face.

"Sometimes," he admitted with a wink, shielding his mouth from Sawamura as if trying to prevent him from overhearing.

Taking his dirty dishes over to the washer, Sawamura merely sighed again. "Remember, we're getting together to review the fight with the _Aobajohsai_ at 0900." He shot a glance at Yuu. "Try to stay out of trouble until then, okay?"

"Me?" Yuu said with an innocent grin. "Get into trouble?"

Hisashi cracked open a sleepy eye. "He probably means no pranking the new rookies. After what happened last time."

"That wasn't my fault!" he said, laughing.

It had _totally_ been his fault. The last rookie they'd been assigned had been one of those cocky youngsters who lacked any respect for their elders. Yuu didn't necessarily care about that in general — and he wasn't enough of a hypocrite to criticise someone for it — but what _had_ ticked him off was the guy's attitude to Asahi, ignoring his advice and mocking him behind his back. In Yuu's book, respect had to be earnt, and Asahi — and Suga and Sawamura too — had done more than enough to earn the respect of a stupid rookie.

When the rookie failed to get the message after his uniform mysteriously disappeared while in the gym showers, leading to a hilarious naked dash back to his quarters, Yuu had been forced to take it to the next level. Getting hold of the bees had taken some ingenuity, for sure, and it had cost him a very expensive bottle of liquor to grease the necessary wheels, but the end result had been worth it.

Which probably contributed to the guy transferring out as soon as possible, but as far as Yuu was concerned, it was good riddance. Sure, Sawamura had been angry for a while, but Karasuno didn't need pilots who thought they knew better than people who had actually won real battles before.

He didn't expect any problems with Yamaguchi though. If anything, Yamaguchi was _too_ respectful, but Yuu figured he'd be able to train that out of him eventually. He was reserving his judgement on Tsukishima for now, but from their performance in the battle the day before, the other two newbies ought to work out fine.

"Just... stay out of trouble," Sawamura said sternly as he left, which only made Yuu laugh again, especially when he saw Yamaguchi's clueless expression.

When Yamaguchi looked to Suga for answers, Suga shook his head. "Don't ask."

"I'll tell you later," Hisashi told him, grinning. "You can pass on the story to Tsukishima to see if it shakes loose the stick in his —"

"Okay, I think I ought to be going now before I hear anything I regret," Suga said, getting to his feet. "Enjoy your breakfast and your totally innocent conversation."

Suga was halfway through clearing the table, doing his best to ignore their laughter, when Kazuhito hurried in.

"Hi Kazuhito!" Yuu said, waving at him. "We were just..."

He trailed off when Kazuhito ignored him, going straight for the viewscreen on the wall instead.

"What is it, Narita?" Suga asked, pausing his tidying.

"You guys need to see this," Kazuhito said, his face pale.

The viewscreen came to life, showing a news broadcast. From what Chikara had said, many channels — both Earth-based and those situated in the colonies — had been faced with a choice: submit to military control and censorship or be shut down. Most had gone along with it, so ordinary TV programming like your everyday soap operas, nature documentaries, dramas, and comedies and such continued as before. Many channels that focused on news were shut down, however, leaving those that were left to turn into little more than propaganda outlets.

The channel Kazuhito swapped over to was one such channel, but as Yuu read the headline at the bottom, he didn't doubt what he was seeing.

_Renegade military units to be treated as pirates._

"— grace period of 24 hours, beyond which any remaining military units who continue to refuse to follow orders from Federation High Command to institute martial law will be declared renegade," the shaken-looking newsreader was saying. "At which point, loyalist units have been ordered to seek them out and neutralise them, just as with any other pirate or rebel elements. It is not clear yet what proportion of the military is disobeying, but there have been preliminary reports of fighting at some colonies. General Rickenbacker, a spokesman for the new interim administration, assures us that only a small minority of the military are rebelling."

The newsreader was replaced with a grizzled general who looked like he'd been carved out of granite and then exposed to the elements for a thousand years.

"The vast majority of the Earth Federation Forces understand the meaning of loyalty and the importance of stability and security," he said gruffly. "They are working tirelessly to ensure the safety of our citizens and put an end to the violence that has plagued the colonies over the past six weeks. However, a tiny minority of rebellious upstarts are refusing to fall in line, abandoning decades of tradition and rejecting their oaths to protect the people. This is mutiny, pure and simple, and in the eyes of the Federation, these rebels are no better than pirates." A grim smile spread across his face, like a crack opening up in a sheer cliff. "But have no fear: if they fail to surrender by the end of the day, we will deal with these troublemakers swiftly and without mercy."

The viewscreen swapped back to the newsreader, who had to swallow before being able to continue. "General Rickenbacker there, making the official stance very clear —"

"Turn it off," Yuu said sharply. Only then did he realise he was on his feet, breathing hard with hot blood pounding in his ears. "I don't want to hear any more of that bullshit."

Kazuhito obeyed, switching it off. "This is bad," he said. He kept glancing at the now black screen while wringing his hands. "Really bad."

"It's propaganda. Don't let it rattle you," Hisashi said, now fully awake. "For all we know, that 'tiny minority' is half the fleet. Maybe more."

Yuu smashed his fist into the tabletop. "Exactly! They're just bullies, Kazuhito. Sure, they act tough, but all you gotta do is stand up to them and you'll see they were cowards all along."

And it was all the more effective if those bullies underestimated you. Like because you were short for your age, for instance. But break their nose or kick 'em in the nuts hard enough and they'll soon learn to leave you alone. Showing fear or trying to run away only encourages them more.

"This isn't a school playground, Noya," Kazuhito said, finally tearing his eyes off the blank viewscreen to shuffle over to their table. "We've fought pirates and Neo Zeon holdouts before. Standing up to us didn't get them very far, did it?"

"Let's all calm down, shall we?" Suga said, coming over and holding out his hands to placate them all. He gave them a reassuring grin and sat against the edge of the next table over. "Think about it. That general doesn't speak for everyone. It's alright for him to talk about mutiny and not showing mercy, but most of the military is made up of people just like us: ordinary people, not bloodthirsty thugs. They're not just going to try to murder us." He shrugged. "Besides, we don't know what else is happening. I heard some of the politicians managed to avoid getting arrested, so they might be able to calm things down. I doubt many people are in favour of a military dictatorship, no matter how much they dress it up with talk about security and protecting people. Too many people suffered under the Titans to allow it to happen again. Sooner or later, everyone will come to their senses and this will all blow over."

"Do you really think so?" Yamaguchi asked. He'd gone pale, making his freckles stand out even more.

Suga nodded. "Nobody wants another war. That's the whole point of this martial law business — to try to put a lid on all the unrest and violence. Once the dust settles and tempers cool, they'll realise that clamping down too hard is counter-productive and they'll ease off. They'd have to be idiots otherwise."

Yuu kinda thought Suga was overestimating their intelligence, but it didn't really matter. Either those arrogant, puffed-up generals would back down or they wouldn't; either way, Yuu intended to be ready. "And if they _do_ turn out to be idiots," he said, "we'll beat 'em up and knock some sense into them. Right, guys?"

"Hopefully it won't come to that," Suga said, flashing him a warning look. "Anyway, my point is don't panic just yet. Things will calm down eventually, I'm sure."

Kazuhito slumped into the seat that Asahi had vacated and ran his hand over his buzzcut. "Yeah, you're probably right." He nodded, as if to convince himself, and managed a wobbly grin.

Suga stared at Yuu for a moment and cleared his throat. "Listen, Noya, could you do me a favour? I was going to give the new rookies a proper tour and show them the ropes, but given the news, I better go talk to Daichi instead. When Kageyama and Hinata get here, can you show them around?"

Yuu puffed up his chest and grinned. "Sure! Sounds like fun."

"But no pranks, right, Suga?" Hisashi said with a smirk.

Suga sucked on his teeth. "No pranks. They've had a rough enough time as it is. In fact maybe you could go along too, Kinoshita? It's not that I don't trust Noya, but —"

"— he does get carried away," Kazuhito finished.

Yuu glared at him. "Hey!"

"Can I come too?" Yamaguchi asked, raising his hand diffidently. "I've probably heard most of it already, but it'd be good to get Noya's take. He might mention things you forgot, sir."

"The more the merrier!" Yuu said, spreading his arms and granting Yamaguchi a generous smile.

It didn't take long for the remaining rookies to show up, though Yuu didn't expect Kageyama and Hinata to look so exhausted. He laughed when he heard what they'd been up to and made them promise to let him join in next time they wanted to duel. Tsukishima also turned up, but to nobody's surprise he passed on accompanying them on their tour.

"I've got more worthwhile things to do," he said, keeping his attention on his datapad, which he was reading while he ate breakfast.

"Suit yourself," Yuu shrugged. He set off out of the mess, leading his little convoy of followers. "So! I'm sure Suga would have given you a decent tour and told you all the stuff you're supposed to know, but this'll be even better. I'll show you all the tricks and tips you need to know to survive on the _Karasuno_. You get to enjoy the full Yuu Nishinoya Experience!"

Hisashi burst out laughing.

"That sounds awesome!" Hinata declared, beaming ear to ear.

Kageyama, on the other hand, merely stifled a yawn with one hand. "Haven't we already seen most of the important parts of the ship?"

Yuu briefly considered how much trouble he'd be in if he ignored Suga's instructions and pulled some sort of prank on Kageyama, but in the end he decided to be merciful. "Knowing your way around the ship and knowing your way around the _crew_ are two different things, young Kageyama," he said, tapping his nose. "You'll see."

They began with the hangars — or more specifically, the hangar chiefs: Chief Takinoue and Chief Shimada. Both were present, already hard at work with their repair crews as they tried to patch up the damaged mobile suits. Yuu didn't bother them, since they were busy and didn't take kindly to being interrupted without good reason, but he made sure to point them both out.

"Those guys are the two people on this ship you really don't want to piss off," he told the newbies. "After Suga, at least. They're the ones who —"

"Wait, why Suga?" Hinata asked, scratching his head.

Yamaguchi was equally confused. "He seems really nice."

"Sure, unless you make him angry," Hisashi said.

Yuu nodded. "Ever seen an angry angel?" When the rookies shook their heads, he grinned. "That's because nobody lives to tell the tale." Then he swept his hand back towards Shimada, who was waist-deep in an access panel in Yamaguchi's Bombardier. "Anyway, the hangar chiefs are the ones responsible for making sure your mobile suits are working. If you stay on their good side, they might bump your suit up the queue or even, if you ask 'em nicely, make little tweaks here and there. Which can be great! I managed to persuade Shimada to fit a brand new sound system in mine and —"

Hisashi held up a finger. "You _bribed_ him to fit a brand new sound system."

"Same thing, same thing," Yuu said, grinning. He raised his eyebrows at Hisashi. "But get on their bad side, like Hisashi here did, and you'd be amazed at how uncomfortable your seat can get, or how glitchy non-critical systems become. Like, say, a stink in your air filters, or having your entire music library deleted next time there's a system update."

Yamaguchi and Hinata both nodded fervently. "Okay, got it," Hinata said. "Don't piss off the technicians."

"But don't leave it all to them, either," Yuu added. "In the end you're the one flying in those mobile suits, so you gotta make sure to do your part too. Don't make extra work for them."

Their next stop was the simulator room. Like all the pilots, Yuu had spent almost as much time in this dimly-lit room as he had his own cabin; he breathed deeply, revelling in the smell of warm electronics, and drifted over to the last simulator pod on the left to pat it fondly. "When you're not flying or sitting through one of Suga's study lectures, you'll probably spend most of your on duty time in here, training," he said. "What you probably don't know is that we each have our own favourite simulator pod. This one's mine, so make sure you stay out of it."

"Aren't they all the same?" Kageyama asked. "They're just standard simulator pods, right?"

"Don't encourage him," Hisashi said dourly. "Noya's superstitious. He thinks his luck is best in that one."

"Hey, listen, when I first came aboard this ship, I tested the same scenario in each pod. I got the best results in this one," Yuu insisted, patting the pod once more for good measure.

Yamaguchi cleared his throat. "Was it the last one you tried?" he asked weakly. "After you'd done the scenario in each of the others?"

"Yeah, I think so," Yuu replied. "Anyway, this one's mine." He pointed at some of the others. "That one's Asahi's, that one's Ryuu's, and that one over there is Chikara's, even though it has a wonky seal. So you four newbies will have to fight amongst yourselves for the ones nobody else wanted."

"Great," Hinata said, frowning. "Does that mean we get the unlucky ones?"

"Yup, sorry!" Yuu said with a grin. He pointed out the unclaimed pods. "I'd avoid that one in the corner; it likes to cut out randomly from time to time and nobody knows why. I think it's haunted."

"Haunted?!" Yamaguchi asked, staring at it like it was about to transform into a werewolf.

Hisashi rolled his eyes. "I think it's time to move on. Where next, oh great and wise Nishinoya?"

Whizzing back towards the hatch, Yuu laughed. "Follow and find out, my faithful pupils!"

This time, he led them back into the gravity section and down to the supply section. "This is where you can get whatever you want, if you know the right person to ask," he said, keeping his voice low and conspiratorial as they arrived at their destination.

Kageyama came to a smooth stop and anchored his boots to the deck with a thud. "You mean the Supply Officer, right?"

"Oh, you pure, innocent thing," Yuu said, shaking his head sadly. He tried to put an arm around Kageyama's shoulders, realised he'd have to stand on tiptoes, and settled for patting him on the back instead. "No, no. Not the SO. I said what you _want_ , not what you _need_. The SO will give you exactly what you're supposed to get, nothing more and nothing less. But if you have something you _want..."_

_"_ Like, say, some tasty treats, or a bottle of something, or something to decorate your cabin..." Hisashi suggested, winking.

"Or a car..." Hinata muttered, shooting a dark glance at Kageyama.

"You need to see _this_ amazing, brilliant, wonderful woman," Yuu said, opening the nondescript hatch that led to the cargo master's office. Within was a middle-aged woman with grey streaks in her hair: Karin, the woman responsible for receiving, organising, and storing the ship's supplies. She looked up at him from behind her computer, rolled her eyes, and sighed.

"What do you want this time, you mischievous imp?"

"Why, Karin, is that any way to talk to your favourite pilot?" Yuu asked, crouching next to her desk and folding his arms on it. He nodded back at the other pilots, clustered in the doorway. "Anyway, I'm simply showing around our new recruits."

"This is Chief Warrant Officer Karin De Ruyter," Hisashi explained as the rookies offered her slightly baffled greetings. "She has encyclopaedic knowledge of every item of cargo that comes or goes aboard the _Karasuno_ and, for the right price, she can usually lay her hands on anything you might want, no matter how hard to obtain."

Sizing up her new potential customers, Karin's weary expression gave way to something altogether more predatory. "That's right, boys," she said. "Within reason, of course. And so long as it's all above board."

"Which means if you get caught with something you're not supposed to have onboard, you didn't get it from her," Yuu translated, laughing as Karin glared at him. "Though I bet even the Captain has come to you once or twice, right?"

"That would be telling. Now, if you're not here for business, get lost, you little pest."

With a cheeky salute, Yuu ushered the others out of the room and closed the hatch again. "Okay, let's head back," he told them.

Along the way, he showed the rookies some of the other important locations they might not have found yet, like the gym, the ship's tiny cinema, the laundry room, and the nearest medical bay. By the time they arrived back at the pilot's lounge, it was empty.

"What else do we need to tell them?" he asked Hisashi.

Hisashi narrowed his eyes in thought. "Um... we have regular poker games every Tuesday night. You're welcome to join in as long as you can afford to lose."

"Kazuhito — Narita, that is — usually wins," Yuu said grumpily. "But if card games aren't your thing, there's usually something else going on."

"Though it's not like you'll have a lot of spare time," Hisashi complained, flopping down backwards onto the nearest sofa. "You'd be amazed at how much paperwork there is and how many reports you have to read. Or write."

Yuu pulled a face. "Yeah." Placing his hands on his hips, he surveyed the three rookies. "So! Did you like my tour? Do you have any questions?"

"That was the best tour!" Hinata said, beaming. "I feel like someone just told me all the secrets to life."

Okay, that made it official: Hinata was definitely his favourite rookie. "You can always come to me whenever you have any problems!" he said, puffing out his chest as his cheeks heated up. "I'll be the best senior you could hope for. Any questions, just ask me."

Yamaguchi smiled as well. "Thanks, Lieutenant. It's amazing how welcoming everyone aboard the _Karasuno_ is."

"Just call me Noya!" Yuu said, preening even more. He turned to Hisashi and waggled his eyebrows. "Look, Hisashi! Look at how they adore me!"

"They're not your pets, Noya," Hisashi replied, laughing.

Kageyama raised his hand. "I have a question," he said, his face an expressionless mask. "Who do we need to see to gain full access rights on the ship's computer? Also, do you know if we're now officially registered as part of the _Karasuno_ 's crew? If not, are we still getting paid? And if we are registered, where do we get new ID cards?"

Yuu pondered the questions for a long moment, tapping his chin as he gave them his full consideration. Finally, he came up with his answer.

"Ask Suga," he said.

 


	4. Into the Fray

Tobio was struggling to keep his eyes open when he staggered into the briefing room. Without the demands of simulated battle to keep him alert, the accumulated fatigue of nearly a solid week of combat training had caught up to him. He'd made do by drinking a bottle of strong coffee and clutched a second in his hand as he sank into a seat near the back of the room.

Damn that stubborn Hinata!

It was all very well for Commander Sawamura to ask them to practise their new technique, the one everyone was calling the "Quickshot"; he wasn't the one who had to endure Hinata's seemingly limitless appetite for non-stop training. Tobio was no stranger to putting in long hours — he'd been dedicated to becoming a mobile suit pilot since early childhood, after all — but usually he'd work solo, or failing that with a complete team. He'd never worked so intensively with a single person for so long before, especially not someone as... _energetic_ as Hinata, and it had fried his nerves as a result.

It might not be so bad if Hinata weren't so inconsistent. Sometimes he'd pull off an unbroken series of great shots with astonishing ease, whereas other times he'd miss them all. The previous day had been an off day, with Hinata struggling to make any shots connect, and he demanded they try again and again and again until they got it right. They'd been at it until late, desperate to make it work, but as fatigue and frustration mounted their efforts only grew more haphazard.

When Tobio started finding it difficult to focus his eyes, he called a halt to the training. Hinata had followed him all the way back to his cabin, alternating between arguing over who was to blame and begging to try one more time, until Tobio had finally shut the hatch in his face.

The man himself wandered into the briefing room at that moment, cleaned up and as perky as if he'd just then woken from a luxurious 10 hours of sleep. There was an actual _bounce_ in Hinata's step. His red hair was damp, making it look darker than usual, but it still stood out in a messy halo around his head, like he'd woken up by sticking his finger into an electrical socket.

Maybe he had; Tobio wouldn't be surprised. The guy was obviously crazy. Perhaps that was why he looked so cheerful and full of energy: he didn't sleep, he just plugged into the nearest source of electricity to recharge.

Ignoring Tobio's glower, Hinata waved at Yamaguchi, who had turned to greet him, and flopped into a seat next to Nishinoya in the middle of the room. Tanaka was seated on Nishinoya's other side and Hinata's arrival acted like a weird catalyst, causing an energetic chain reaction amongst the three of them. Within moments they were laughing and joking and Nishinoya climbed up to sit perched on the back of his chair, waving his arms around as he related some kind of anecdote to Hinata, with Tanaka interrupting periodically with eager additions.

Tobio scowled and sipped at the bitter coffee.

Most of the rest of the team was already present. Ennoshita and two pilots whose names Tobio kept mixing up were talking quietly over to the right, with Ennoshita shooting glares at Nishinoya over his shoulder whenever he got too loud. Tsukishima was stretched out over on the left-hand side, his lanky legs propped up on the chair in front while Yamaguchi chatted away beside him. Azumane and Suga were at the front, poring over a datapad together.

Commander Sawamura arrived a minute before 0600, accompanied by Commander Takeda. Both strode up to the front of the room, where there was a lectern hosting the controls for the viewscreen.

"Okay, listen up," Sawamura said. His voice carried easily through the room, but Nishinoya either didn't hear or was ignoring him, because he kept on talking and gesticulating wildly while Tanaka and Hinata laughed.

Sawamura cleared his throat and smiled, levelling a stare that could freeze nitrogen on Nishinoya. He didn't even have to say anything; the mere weight of the glare and sudden temperature drop was enough to shut Nishinoya up and cause him to topple off the back of his chair with an _eep!_ of alarm.

"Sorry Daichi!" he said, jumping back to his feet and hopping over the chair to retake his seat. He didn't even have the good grace to blush.

"Now that we're all ready," Sawamura said, pausing to raise an eyebrow at Nishinoya, "Commander Takeda is going to give us a status update. Please pay attention." After a nod to Takeda, he sat down next to Suga.

Takeda cleared his throat and pressed a button on the lectern, activating the viewscreen. A diagram of the Earth sphere appeared, showing the groupings of space colonies situated at each of the Lagrange points around the Earth. The _Karasuno_ 's position and course was displayed as a flashing arrow and a dotted line. Side 4 was straight ahead, though the _Karasuno_ 's path led to a small colony cluster on the outskirts.

  


"As most of you are probably aware," Takeda said, " _Karasuno_ was in the middle of a refit when martial law was declared. Many of our systems are not yet fully functional, we have holes in our hull where new equipment was due to be installed, and most of the supplies and stores we were due to receive hadn't arrived yet when we were forced to leave.

"Furthermore, you will no doubt have heard the news by now: Federation High Command at Kilimanjaro has declared that any unit refusing the order to impose martial law is to be considered renegade. Use of deadly force to neutralise such units has been authorised."

Takeda took a moment to swallow and resettle his old-fashioned glasses on his nose. "As such, the _Karasuno_ is in desperate need of a safe harbour to resupply and restore the ship to full working order." He gestured at the screen, which zoomed in on Side 4 to show 'Miyagi Colony' — a standard O'Neill cylinder, thirty two kilometres long and eight in diameter, with three large mirrors sticking out like the petals of an enormous space-faring flower. A ring of agricultural pods circled it and a text box of statistics appeared underneath, showing population, construction date and so on. Tobio's eyes glazed over when he tried to read them.

"Miyagi Colony is our best hope. The governor is Captain Ukai's grandfather and the colony has a small shipyard that should be capable of meeting our needs. However..." He tapped another button and the screen zoomed out again; several flashing question marks popped up around Side 4. "Several other military units were known to be in the vicinity before the communications blackout. At this point we have no idea whether they are still there or not; our sensors can't penetrate the Minovsky particles in the area. But the fact that the particle density is that high at all suggests likely trouble ahead."

He sighed, drumming his fingers on the lectern. "With a bit of luck, we won't encounter anyone at all, but we have to plan for the worst. We'll be arriving at Miyagi in a little over two hours. Your orders are to form a defensive screen in front of the ship just in case we do run into trouble." He paused, hesitating. "It is also possible that the colony may have fallen under martial law. In that case, Captain Ukai's instructions are to try to free the colony and restore civilian government."

The silence stretched out after Takeda's announcement as the pilots absorbed the news. Sawamura had his head down and his arms crossed, obviously pre-warned, but everyone else was exchanging looks of surprise and alarm.

Tobio sipped at his coffee, his eyes narrowed. They'd all been prepared for the possibility of another mobile suit battle — it's why he and Hinata had stayed up so late trying to finally perfect the Quickshot — but an invasion of a colony?

"Let me get this straight," Tsukishima said, as if hoping he'd misheard. He took his feet off the chair in front and leant forward, elbows on his knees. "You want us to _attack a colony_?"

Ennoshita cleared his throat nervously. "Isn't refusing the order to do that exactly why we're now on the run?"

Flashes of the scene at the park back at Phoenix Colony replayed in Tobio's mind. The image of the mobile suit stomping forward into the crowd as flames and smoke rolled off its armour was scorched into his memory.

Takeda held his hands up and shook his head. "No, no, that's not what I'm saying," he said. "We would never ask you to attack civilian targets. In this case, Captain Ukai is convinced that the colony administration would never accept martial law, and as there was only a small garrison stationed there, it is likely Miyagi is still free. But it's possible that one of the loyalist ships in the area may have besieged the colony or even attempted to invade, in which case we may need to persuade it to leave."

"With all due respect, Commander," Ennoshita said, "it's been nearly a week since martial law was declared. There's every chance that we're too late and that the colony has been occupied. What then? Are we supposed to board the colony by force and take out any troops inside? Because you know that will incur a lot of collateral damage." He hesitated a moment before adding, "I'm not sure I'd be willing to accept that."

Takeda took a moment to consider his words, staring down at the lectern as he thought. "It is likely that if we forced any naval support to disengage, the remaining garrison would surrender," he said. "And if we're outnumbered, or their forces are too deeply entrenched in the colony, we will not engage. We'll retreat and try to seek refuge somewhere else. Nobody wants to risk further civilian casualties."

But then he looked up again, sweeping a stern gaze across the pilots in the room. "On the other hand, we can't run forever. We need to draw the line somewhere, after all. So if the colony _is_ under attack, Captain Ukai and I expect you to be willing to go to its aid. Our job is to defend innocent people and fight those who would harm them, and that may mean further conflict with other Federation units. If you are not comfortable with that possibility, now is your opportunity to say so."

"And what will you do if we're not?" Tsukishima asked. "Refusing to use force against civilians is our moral duty. Defending ourselves when attacked is simply self-preservation. But to actively oppose our own forces, to engage them in a hostile act — you're asking a lot, Commander. So I ask again: what if we're _not_ comfortable with that?"

"Is that a hypothetical question, Ensign?" Takeda asked calmly.

"I guess it depends on the answer. Sir."

Tobio swallowed hard as the tension in the room ratcheted even higher, high enough that even he couldn't fail to sense it. He could see Tsukishima's point: fighting Aobajohsai had been a necessity, and they'd worked hard not to actually cause any casualties, but what Takeda was suggesting was a big step beyond that.

It's not that he was squeamish. Tobio knew that becoming a mobile suit pilot would mean having to pull the trigger one day. But he'd always assumed his rifle would be aimed at the bad guys: Neo Zeon separatists, or pirates, or terrorists; hell, even alien invaders. Not other Federation pilots. What if it was someone he knew? Someone he'd trained with?

He shuddered at the thought, gulping coffee to stave off a sudden wave of nausea.

After a long pause, Takeda took off his glasses to rub his eyes. He looked younger without them, but it also revealed the lines of worry and stress etched into his face.

"Nobody's going to force you, Tsukishima," he said wearily. "That would be grossly hypocritical of us, wouldn't it? If you feel that strongly, you can stay behind. Or disembark at the next opportunity, if you prefer."

He put his glasses back on and cleared his throat. "But Captain Ukai and I believe we have a duty not just to refuse illegal orders but to actively work to restore democratic government wherever we can. Assuming Miyagi Colony is still free — or that we can free it if it isn't — our intention is to use it as a beacon to gather like-minded units, while we defend against attempts to seize it."

"And then...?" Suga asked, breathless with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

Takeda stood straight and squared his shoulders. "There are other ships out there that refused the order, and politicians that escaped arrest. If we can bring them all together, we can give the people of the colonies — perhaps even most earthnoids too — a voice. And, if necessary, a shield to protect them and a sword to fight back with."

Sawamura stood up, turning to face the room. "I've already agreed to support the Captain with this plan. Not just because I believe it's our best chance for survival, but because I think it's also the right thing to do. But I understand that you've all had a lot to process in the past week, and as Commander Takeda said, nobody's going to force you into anything. However, the _Karasuno_ might be headed into combat imminently, so you all have a decision to make." He gave them a wry smile. "Am I going to be out there on my own?"

Suga stood up immediately, with Azumane following a moment later.

"You can count on us," Suga said firmly, smiling when Sawamura clapped him on the shoulder in gratitude.

Noya and Tanaka were next, exchanging a look and then shooting up as one. "Us too," Tanaka said, jabbing himself in the chest with his thumb. "Someone has to stop these bullies, right?"

"Time to be heroes!" Noya said, hands on his hips and one foot on his seat. "That's why we signed up, remember!" He looked ridiculous, though Hinata was staring up at him in awe, mouth hanging open.

"Noya, I thought you said you joined up because you liked the uniforms?" Tanaka whispered loudly.

"Every hero needs a good uniform, Ryuu."

Sawamura scanned the room, suppressing a smile. "Anyone else?"

"Tsukki?" Yamaguchi asked anxiously; he was halfway out of his seat, evidently unsure what to do.

Tsukishima shook his head and sighed, but he stood up. "I won't take part in any operation against civilians, or one that's likely to cause civilian collateral damage," he declared as Yamaguchi got up too. "But I will fight to protect them, as long as we also allow any opponents the opportunity to surrender or withdraw."

"That's all we ask," Takeda said, nodding in approval. He looked to Ennoshita and the other two, the ones Tobio kept mixing up — Narita and Kinoshita.

Ennoshita was biting his lip, thinking, but when he caught Takeda's glance, he stopped and sighed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't mind defending the ship if we get attacked, or intervening to prevent an obvious massacre, but going on the offensive against our own forces is a step too far for me. It doesn't seem right and I think it'll only escalate things further. If we all start shooting at each other, then there'll be even less chance of a peaceful resolution to this mess."

The pilot next to his left, the tall one with a dark buzz cut, nodded in agreement.

"Same here," said the fair-haired one on his right.

"I can respect that," Sawamura said. Tobio half-expected him to get angry, but he didn't even sound surprised. "You three can fly rear-guard to protect the ship. With Tsukishima and Yamaguchi too, if they want. Is that acceptable?"

Ennoshita nodded. "Yes sir." His expression was as calm as ever, but his stiff posture relaxed as the tension drained from his shoulders and arms.

Tobio's skin prickled as a room full of curious gazes turned his way.

"What about you two?" Sawamura asked, looking from Hinata to Tobio.

Hinata had been fully absorbed in watching the drama, turning this way and that with his eyes wide and his mouth open. Now he snapped his mouth shut with a click and hopped to his feet. "We'll fight too, of course!" he declared. "We've seen what martial law means with our own eyes. We have to stop it!"

"Oi!" Tobio snarled, scowling at him. "You don't get to speak for me."

Turning, Hinata stared at him in slack-jawed surprise. "You mean you _don't_ want to fight?"

"I didn't say that!" Tobio said, scrunching his face up in frustration.

Hinata cocked his head. "So, what then? I thought this was what you wanted — to be a pilot."

"Hinata, don't pressure him," Sawamura said. "Let Kageyama speak." Then he nodded to Tobio, giving him the go ahead.

Except Tobio didn't know what to say.

Everyone was looking at him, waiting expectantly, and his mind went blank as a brief moment of panic shivered up his spine at being put on the spot. He had to sip at his coffee to buy himself a few seconds to think.

Even though he'd been aboard the _Karasuno_ for almost a week now, Tobio still hadn't fully digested what it all meant. It was too confusing and he'd had more immediate tasks to contend with. He didn't understand or care about the politics that people like Ennoshita and Tsukishima were so concerned with, and as much as he was haunted by what he'd seen during the riot in the park, he didn't have the personal connection to it that Hinata did.

In a way, it would have been a lot easier if Sawamura had just ordered him to fight. He was used to doing what he was told. Now that he was being given a choice, he didn't know what he was supposed to do.

But as his eyes found Hinata's, which were full of the same challenge and impatience as the previous night, Tobio found that he did know one thing for sure: he did _not_ want to let that pipsqueak get one up on him.

"I'll do it," he said finally, raising his chin and glaring back at Hinata. Yet surprisingly, Hinata simply smiled and gave a satisfied nod.

"That's the spirit," Takeda said, smiling. "Excellent. Then please make the necessary preparations. We don't know what may lay ahead, but whatever we find, we need to be ready for it."

 

* * *

 

Kenma Kozume was not a big fan of change. Change was, by its very nature, unpredictable and therefore stressful. But things were certainly changing now, so he would just have to adapt. He always did in the end.

He hung in space in his Conductor, the rest of his team spread out in Nekoma's usual defensive formation, and chewed on his bottom lip as he watched the warship and its mobile suits approach. It was hard to be sure at their current distance, but he suspected they'd suffered some damage — several of the mobile suits were moving slower than they should. Their mothership, too, seemed to be damaged judging by its silhouette and what little his sensors could glean through the heavy Minovsky interference.

And their formation was weird. The two teams were evenly matched, twelve mobile suits apiece. Yet instead of bringing all of their firepower to bear, several of the enemy team were lagging behind, presumably covering their ship.

It was strange. Not what he'd predicted. Kenma didn't like that either.

" _Everyone stay calm_ ," Kuro said, crisp and clear across the laser communication channel. " _We knew this moment would come and we've prepared for it_."

The team was arranged in front of the _Nekoma_ , their mobile suit carrier, which in turn had positioned itself between the colony and the enemy ship. The area was flooded with dense Minovsky particles, making radio transmission impossible and hindering sensor readings, but they'd detected the approaching ship early enough for them to be able to set up their intercept a safe distance from the colony.

"No matter what," Kuro had said during the quick briefing, "don't let them past us. We've got to protect the colony at all costs."

So here they were, lined up against fellow soldiers they might have fought alongside just a few days earlier.

"It's time," Kenma said, watching the distance readout shrink steadily.

" _Okay, you heard the man_ ," Kuro said. " _Layered defence — go._ "

Kuro's Guardian and the team's three Defenders surged forwards, criss-crossing in a chaotic weave to throw off any potential long range fire, and started launching smoke rockets. Immediately after, they launched mines, hiding them in the smoke — a nasty surprise for any thoughtless pursuers — and then scattered some anti-beam chaff for good measure.

The moment that line of sight to the enemy had been obscured, Kenma and the rest of the team fell back a short distance. Once the small minefield was deployed, the Defenders launched inflatable decoys where their formation had previously been and then rejoined the others.

It was Nekoma's favourite defensive tactic, one Kuro called the 'Layered Defence'. If any enemy units made it through the mines and smoke, Nekoma would try to pick them off at medium range while the enemy was still scattered and distracted by the decoys. If the enemy kept on coming, they'd fall back further and repeat the tactic, again and again, forcing the enemy to push through a hail of fire each time. In the past, when they'd used it against Neo Zeon holdouts and occasional pirate bands, it had been devastatingly successful.

Needless to say, this was the first time they'd ever used it on Federation pilots. Kenma wondered how well it would work this time. He kept one eye on the rest of his team, impatiently tapping the edge of the controls with his fingers as his sensors searched for the enemy.

The first sign they might be in trouble was when a ripple of missile explosions tore through the smoke cloud, partially dispersing it and prematurely detonating many of the mines.

The second sign they might be in trouble was when Kenma's target painting alarm went off and his screen flashed with the glare of an incoming particle cannon blast. It flared against his I-Field, having brought the defensive energy barrier up just in time to protect himself, but his mobile suit still shook with the impact.

Most pilots Kenma knew got worked up in a battle. Adrenaline surged and they became hot-headed and single-minded. But it had a different effect on Kenma: to him it was like playing a particularly engrossing game, one that he could immerse himself in completely. He forgot all about his body, all about his emotions, and entered a trance-like flow state in which his mind accelerated, processing everything at once. It was what made him a good Conductor pilot.

He took in the situation with a single snapshot. Of the seven enemy suits that were advancing, two had been confused by the decoys; one had hit a stray mine and was falling behind, trailing sparks; and another had strayed in the smoke and was separated from the others. The remaining three — a Conductor, an Avenger, and a Defender — were approaching at top speed, the Avenger firing rapid, unexpectedly accurate shots despite the long range. One of them blew off the arm of Inuoka's Defender before he could react; Yaku had to interpose his own Defender to block the shots instead.

"Turtle up in pairs," Kenma said quickly, already tapping in the commands necessary to send his instructions to everyone else in case they didn't hear him. They had a library of pre-prepared tactics and manoeuvres ready; all he had to do was select the right one. "Teshiro, take Inuoka's place. Get ready to close the net."

Nekoma's team were defence specialists, with less assault suits and long range firepower than most other mobile suit teams. But what they lacked in offensive capability they made up for in adaptability, and they'd already rearranged their formation to block all incoming fire; Defenders and Conductors all had I-Fields, so by pairing up with unshielded mobile suits, they could fly in front and protect them. The I-Fields wouldn't hold forever, but it gave them a minute to change formation and start falling back, luring the enemy suits further forwards and isolating them in the process.

A trap disguised as a retreat, in other words. All that remained was to spring it at the right moment.

The RHQ series of mobile suits were undoubtedly powerful, being barely more than a year old and thus cutting edge military tech. Normally that was a good thing, because it gave them a big advantage over their usual opponents — rebels and criminals armed with old, worn out mobile suits and outdated weapons. In this case, however, they were up against an enemy just as tough and well armed as they themselves were. Their opponents knew the capabilities of their suits, knew the basic tactics they'd been trained with.

But that went both ways, Kenma thought, as he counted down the shots left in the enemy Avenger's rifle capacitor. Four... Three... Two... One...

"Now," he said, designating targets and bringing his own rifle to bear. "Cut them off."

As they'd fallen back, pummelled by the enemy Avenger's supernaturally accurate fire but safe as long as their I-Fields held up, their formation had expanded into a funnel shape, with Kenma at the back in the centre and Defender/Avenger pair at each point around the rim. On his signal, the Defenders all fired chaff and smoke rockets _behind_ the trio of advancing enemy suits, temporarily cutting them off from their comrades. At the same time, their own Avengers came out of shelter and opened fire at once, all following Kenma's targeting data.

The first target was the enemy Defender, the one covering their pesky Avenger. An I-Field is an effective barrier, capable of absorbing several hits before starting to collapse, but it only protects you from one direction. With the Nekoma mobile suits surrounding them, there was no way for the enemy Defender to block every angle of attack, and despite his wild evasive manoeuvres, two shots speared him through the leg and arm.

Kenma switched to the Avenger, now vulnerable, but in the time it had taken to disable the enemy Defender, the Avenger had already partially recharged its capacitor. Two insanely accurate shots lanced out mere moments apart, disarming (literally) both Tora and Lev. A third was only blocked when Kuro dropped back into position in front of Kai, sheltering him with his I-Field.

And then the remaining two enemy mobile suits charged right for Kenma, _both_ shooting. Kenma brought up his own I-Field in time but it couldn't withstand this sort of punishment for more than a few seconds, especially as the range closed. For the first time in the whole battle, a spike of fear sent his pulse racing. He was blinded by the destructive energy splashing against the barrier, jostling him around in the cockpit, and his Conductor was sluggish as he tried his best to evade.

" _Kenma!_ " Kuro yelled.

A colossal _bang_ deafened Kenma as something collided with his mobile suit, jerking him forwards so hard that he was bound to have bruises from his harness, and for several seconds afterwards he was too stunned and dazed to react.

" _STOP! Please, just_ stop!"

Kenma blinked. Who was that?

It took him a moment to regain his bearings, checking his sensors and rapidly taking in the picture.

Some of the other enemy units had caught up and were darting in and out of the smoke, exchanging sporadic fire with Kai and the others — even Tora, who had somehow found another particle rifle to use left-handed. They were being covered by Shibayama and Yaku, while Lev and Fukunaga were retreating back to _Nekoma,_ towing Teshiro's damaged suit with them. Overall, Nekoma held the upper hand despite the damage they'd taken.

But the enemy Conductor was hovering nearby, circling Kenma while in a stand-off with Kuro, who was constantly shifting to try to block any shot it might take at Kenma, and the other one...

"I'm okay," Kenma finally said, hoping to put an end to Kuro's squawking of alarm. "Just... hold on a sec while I figure this out."

Because the enemy Avenger was clinging to his damaged Conductor like a koala, trapping his arms to his sides. The Avenger had a beam sabre clutched in one hand, its searing blade uncomfortably close to the Conductor's Minovsky reactor.

" _I know you can hear me in there_!" the strange voice from earlier said, young and so very earnest. It was coming over the contact link. " _We don't want to fight you. Just let the colony go free and we'll let you leave in peace_."

Kenma's mind was whirling as he flicked a switch to activate his own contact link. Because the two mobile suits were physically touching, they could communicate directly without using radio or even laser comms. "If you don't want to fight, why did you attack us?"

" _To protect the colony! Martial law is wrong — innocent people will get hurt. People have_ already _got hurt._ "

 "Uh..." A giggle bubbled up from somewhere deep in his chest, the ridiculousness of it all breaking out past his usual reserve. "I think we're on the same side."

" _Exactly_!" the other pilot chirped. Kenma could almost picture him bouncing around his cockpit in excitement. " _There's no need for us to fight. We just want to make sure nobody else gets —_ "

"No, you don't understand," Kenma said. "We refused to impose martial law. We're trying to protect Miyagi Colony."

There was a long pause. " _Oh_ ," the other pilot said, embarrassed. " _Shit. Our bad_."

Kenma giggled again. Twice in one day! What was happening to him? He couldn't even remember the last time he laughed aloud, let alone giggled. "Maybe we should tell everyone to stop fighting?" he asked, light-headed with hysteria.

" _... yeah. Good idea._ "

It took a few seconds for the messages to filter through their respective teams, but the distant firefight soon died down and Kenma could see Kuro's Guardian turn towards him after the enemy Conductor lowered its gun. 

" _What the hell is going on, Kenma?_ "

"Turns out they're on our side," Kenma said.

Unable to take it anymore, he muted his mic and pulled off his helmet.

And then he giggled. Again.

 

* * *

 

It was possibly the most surreal experience of Kenma's life.

He'd been so shaky with relief during their return to the _Nekoma_ that he'd stayed in the cockpit of his mobile suit, only emerging once the ship had docked with the colony. Kuro had let him be, busy checking up on the rest of the team. When Kenma finally felt back in control of himself and joined the others, he blinked in shock when Kuro revealed that not only did Commodore Nekomata know the other ship, its captain was Governor Ukai's _grandson_.

No wonder the newcomers had wanted to protect the colony.

So now he found himself lined up with Kuro, the Commodore, and the Governor as the umbilical docking arm linked with the mobile suit carrier _Karasuno._ About to meet the very same people they were desperately fighting less than an hour earlier.

"I still can't believe it," Kuro muttered next to him. "Why the hell didn't they say something?"

"They're probably asking the same question about us," Kenma replied. "Besides, the flood of Minovsky particles wouldn't have helped." His fingers itched, too used to fiddling with a datapad, so he stuffed them into his pockets. He peered up at Kuro through the curtain of his hair. "Even so, I should have realised something when they only shot to disable us, not kill. Sorry."

"There's no point casting blame or dwelling on what-ifs," Nekomata rumbled, smiling beatifically as always. "Let's just be thankful."

Governor Ukai grunted and folded his arms. "Speak for yourself," he said. "You could have killed my grandson out there."

"Somehow I don't think Keishin would have been that easy to kill," Nekomata replied, still smiling.

"Lucky for you."

With a mechanical rumble, the airlock opened to reveal several officers in Federation uniform. The one in front wore a captain's insignia and bore strong family resemblance to the Governor, though his hair was dyed blond and pulled back. "That was some welcome, Gramps," he said gruffly.

"What did you expect?" Governor Ukai replied, equally gruffly. "A red carpet? Maybe a parade?"

And then they were hugging each other tightly, slapping each other on the back. "Glad you could make it," Ukai said, his voice softening.

The _Karasuno_ 's captain pulled back and raised an eyebrow at Nekomata. "I should have guessed it was you," he said.

"Likewise, Keishin," Nekomata said, beaming. "You always were a troublemaker."

Captain Ukai let out a bark of laughter and moved to shake his hand. "Can't deny that, I suppose," he agreed. He gestured behind him to where three other officers awaited. "This is Takeda, my first officer; Sawamura, commander of my MS team; and... what was your name again, kid?"

The young pilot in question went ramrod straight and saluted. "Ensign Shouyou Hinata sir!"

"Yeah," Ukai said, nodding. "Only been on my ship a few days yet he was the only one to think of actually _talking_ to you guys."

"It was you?" Kenma blurted out, his cheeks heating.

"Oh! You must be the Conductor pilot!" Hinata said cheerfully, bounding forward and extending his hand. He didn't seem put off when Kenma — frozen with shock and embarrassment — failed to react, instead reaching out to grab his limp hand before shaking it vigorously. "Nice to meet you for real!"

Kuro, the bastard, was struggling not to laugh. "Since the cat's apparently got his tongue, let me introduce my rude colleague on his behalf. This is Lieutenant Kenma Kozume, our lead Conductor pilot. And I'm Tetsurou Kuroo. I lead _Nekoma_ 's mobile suit team."

Sawamura approached and they shook hands. "You put up quite the fight out there," he said. He was smiling, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Nah, not really," Kuro replied, grinning broadly and trying to hide his wince as Sawamura crushed his knuckles. "We were holding back."

"Likewise."

"Now now," Nekomata said, watching them with amusement. "Play nicely."

The two were still wearing crocodile smiles as they separated, no doubt silently promising to pick up where they left off next time they met.

"I'm amazed you didn't fry us!" Hinata said, head bobbing as he shook hands with Kuro. "That bit where you hit us from four directions at once was scary!"

Kuro laughed, though Kenma could tell he was taken aback by the way his eyebrows had shot up. "Didn't seem to stop you, though, did it?"

Hinata preened a little before shaking his head. "That was when I realised!" he said, looking at Kenma. "You didn't hurt Noya — that's our Defender pilot, he's awesome — even though you could, so I figured if I could just get through to you, you'd listen to me."

Sawamura chuckled ruefully, clamping a hand down on his shoulder. "But maybe next time don't go charging straight at the enemy, Hinata. Not everyone will be as willing to listen."

Kenma was beginning to understand why they'd brought Hinata along. Everyone was smiling now, even scary old Governor Ukai, and they were genuine smiles this time.

"Sadly true," Commander Takeda said, turning to the governor. "Have you not had any problems with the Loyalists then?"

"We dealt with the garrison easily enough," the Governor replied. "There were only a couple of problem cases; the rest were mainly just scared. We convinced the more reasonable ones to stay and keep up the charade, so as far as your Headquarters knows, we're a loyal, obedient colony." He glared at Nekomata and added, "Of course, then the _Nekoma_ arrived and almost blew the whole thing by demanding that the garrison surrender."

Nekomata had the good grace to look mildly embarrassed, clasping the back of his head with one hand. "Now now, I thought my good friend Ikkei might be in trouble. What else would I do?"

Governor Ukai snorted. "First my colony, then my grandson's ship. Anyone would think you had a vendetta against my family, Yasufumi."

"More like the other way around, Ikkei," Nekomata said innocently. "As you know, I don't have a vindictive bone in my body."

"Only because you replaced them all with retractable particle cannons," Ukai said, rolling his eyes. "You're fooling nobody."

"You said HQ thinks you're loyal," Captain Ukai said, apparently eager to head off the argument brewing between the two old men. "Is that still the case now that two warships have turned up?"

The Governor scowled. "Probably not. We might have gotten away with it if you two hadn't started _shooting_ at each other, but that sort of thing is hard to miss and even harder to explain away. Someone's bound to have reported it." He sighed, and for a moment he looked every bit his age. "Hopefully they've got bigger fish to fry at the minute, but there's always a risk that someone will come to check up on us."

"Maybe we should leave...?" Kuro asked, looking between Ukai and Nekomata.

Nekomata shrugged. "Perhaps. But after that little scuffle, your mobile suits need repairs, and I'm sure the _Karasuno_ 's do as well. Let's not be hasty."

"Besides," Captain Ukai said, "we have two ships now. If we're going to try to do something about this whole martial law business, that's not a bad start."

"We know of a few other ships that also refused the order," Nekomata said. "But we can discuss that later. Right now we ought to focus on getting the _Karasuno_ and all our mobile suits patched up. Do you need to borrow any of my engineers or mobile suit technicians?"

As the senior officers began to discuss the details of what repairs and supplies were necessary, Hinata sidled over to Kenma.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked quietly.

Kenma blinked at him. "Uh. I guess. Yes."

"Why did you laugh?"

"Sorry?"

"When we first spoke over the contact link. You laughed."

Kenma avoided his gaze. "It just seemed ridiculous. We were fighting for no reason. If we'd realised earlier..."

Hinata nodded thoughtfully. "I'm glad you listened. Otherwise we might not have realised until it was all over."

"I'm glad you tried talking," Kenma said. "It was brave of you to risk it."

Now it was Hinata's turn to look away, his face flushing as he struggled to contain his grin. "Thanks, uh, Kozume was it?"

Kenma shrugged. "Kenma Kozume. But I prefer Kenma."

"Oh, then you should call me Shouyou. That was my second ever battle, you know!" Hinata said cheerfully. "It's so exciting, don't you think? Although I wish it had been against some bloodthirsty pirates or something."

Watching him out of the corner of his eye, Kenma slowly formulated a reply. "I normally don't like fighting much," he said. "But... this time was different."

Hinata turned a curious gaze on him. "Oh? Why?"

Why indeed?

It wasn't like Kenma was a veteran pilot or anything. He'd taken part in several operations, but only small ones — peacekeeping and anti-piracy mostly. Maybe this time it was different because the stakes were higher? It wasn't like any of their previous opponents could seriously threaten them, but Karasuno had come charging in and Kenma had been a hair's breadth away from getting vaporised.

"I don't know," Kenma replied. "It was scary. Maybe that made it more exciting."

Hinata tilted his head. "Hmm. You don't _look_ very excited." He grinned. "We'll just have to try harder next time!"

The corner of Kenma's mouth rose of its own accord and he forced it back down again. "Hopefully there won't be a next time, Shouyou. I don't want to fight you again."

"Ha!" Hinata exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air; thanks to the zero-g environment, he nearly launched himself off the deck in the process. "Two battles and my opponents are already too scared to face me again! At this rate, I'll be a famous ace in no time!"

Kenma rolled his eyes and pressed his lips together to stop them from smiling again. "I don't want to fight _against_ you, but I think maybe it'd be interesting to fight alongside you."

"That would be so cool!" Hinata said, immediately ceasing the little victory dance he'd been doing to stare at Kenma. The intensity of his gaze was uncomfortable; Kenma looked away, hiding behind his hair. "We'll be the heroes of the Federation, fighting for freedom!"

Sawamura appeared behind Hinata, using one hand on his shoulder again to stop him bouncing with excitement; he was only partly successful. "One step at a time, Hinata. C'mon, we need to get back and see to our mobile suits. I think yours is the only one left that doesn't have any parts missing now."

Hinata nodded. "Sorry sir! I'll see you later, right Kenma?"

"Right," Kenma said, offering a timid wave as the Karasuno pilots headed back into the umbilical. Outside, cargo lifters were already starting to ferry supplies and equipment to the ship, and tiny figures in spacesuits were crawling over the hull, inspecting it for damage.

"You look like a sequel to your favourite game just got released, Kenma," Kuro said from behind him, right into his ear. "The Karasuno guys get you fired up, did they?"

"I don't get fired up, Kuro," Kenma reminded him, shooting him a glare. "You know that."

"Could have fooled me."

Kenma shrugged. "They're interesting, that's all."

"That's one way to put it." Kuro moved to stand beside him, watching the activity in the colony's enormous dockyard. "I'm just glad they're on our side."

 

* * *

 

It was a source of constant fascination to Koushi how unique colonies could be. The majority of space colonies in the Earth sphere were all built to roughly the same standard O'Neill design. There were other types — like the window-less cylinders of Side 3, or the way settlements like Palau and Luna II were built inside mined-out asteroids — but they were exceptions to the rule. And as a result, Miyagi Colony and Phoenix Colony looked almost identical from the outside, as did Miyagi and Koushi's home colony of Amelia.

Inside, however, it was a different story.

As a military pilot, Koushi had to travel often. He'd visited many colonies, and each one had its own individual character. And not just the 'themed' resort colonies, like the arid Texas Colony or sunny beaches of New Fiji, that had been built in the 0020s to try to lure more people away from Earth — as though such vacation spots would make up for being forcibly uprooted from your home and launched into space. Their individuality was fake, artificial.

No, what intrigued him was the way regular colonies grew organically over time, the way the colonists gradually stamped their own mark on their new home. The effect was most obvious on the older colonies, like the junkyard slums of Shangri-La or the historical architecture of Londenion, but even on brand new colonies, like Phoenix Colony, he could see a unique style and culture forming.

Miyagi Colony was middle-aged as space colonies went, perhaps fifty or sixty years old, and during that time its people had done an astonishing job of recreating a bucolic, old-fashioned version of Earth's Japan. Leaning out of the window of a painstakingly authentic Japanese-style castle, Koushi shaded his eyes with one hand and stared out past the tree-lined avenues of New Sendai to the lush green hills and valleys beyond.

He loved it.

"It's very pretty," Koushi said, turning to his Nekoma guides with a wide smile. "Better than a view full of skyscrapers and boring grey concrete."

The shorter of the two pilots, Morisuke Yaku, gave a lazy shrug. "Nice for hiking, I guess."

"Not the warmest welcome though," Ennoshita said, peering through another of the narrow windows to glance down at the protesters in the square below. They'd taken a roundabout route to avoid them on their way up to the castle, but the noise of tinny loudspeakers and slogans being chanted did spoil the tranquil atmosphere somewhat.

"It's been like that since we arrived a few of days ago," said the other Nekoma pilot, Nobuyuki Kai. "There's actually at least two groups down there. Some want Miyagi to be totally neutral, with no military at all, while others are glad we're here or even support martial law. Hence the police —" he reached past Koushi to point at a thin line of brightly-jacketed police dividing the square in two, "— to keep the two sides separate."

Koushi poked his head through the window again and frowned at the protests. There weren't that many people there — maybe a couple of hundred in total — but he could just about make out some of the banners being waved about. He was all in favour of free speech, but it was kind of unsettling to see a crowd of people waving placards saying 'Military = Murderers' and calling for you to be jettisoned out the nearest airlock.

Ennoshita sighed. "They do know we're here to help, right?"

Yaku offered him a humourless smile. "You're welcome to go down there and try to explain it to them."

"Or, instead of that, how about we go take a look from the _other_ side of the castle?" Koushi suggested cheerfully, already setting off in that direction.

They stopped off to read a couple of information boards along the way, explaining the history of the original castle that had inspired New Sendai's replica, and Koushi was pleased to note that he could barely hear the protests anymore. "It must have taken a lot of dedication to build this place," he mused. "Apart from Londenion, I can't think of any other colony with its own castle."

"It's cool," Yaku agreed as they moved on. "Apparently tourists like it a lot. But it's a weird priority if you ask me. Why not spend the money on more schools or hospitals instead?"

"It was a community uplift, as I understand it," Kai said. He stopped to look out through the nearest window, shading his eyes to look out towards the countryside with a barely-concealed expression of longing. "When people get homesick but can't go home, they do the next best thing: make their new home look as much like the old one as they can."

"Ah," Koushi said, nodding in understanding. He should have guessed: community uplifts were one of the big reasons why so many colonies had such individual styles. To make the massive space-bound emigration of the Universal Century more palatable to reluctant earthnoids, the Earth Federation had offered to resettle entire communities together, as long as they were willing (and able) to contribute to the cost. The result was a much more homogeneous, harmonious, and culturally distinct colony.

"So the people here came from the original Miyagi back on Earth?" Ennoshita asked politely. He'd come along more out of obligation than interest, but Koushi had invited him deliberately, wanting to make sure there were no hard feelings about him taking a back seat in the recent battle.

"I believe so, yes," Kai said, nodding. He sighed and stepped away from the wall, giving them all a weary smile. "I don't suppose I can interest you in a tour of the valleys?"

Despite having met the Nekoma pilots only a couple of hours ago — and admittedly not in the best of circumstances — Koushi was beginning to get a feel for their personalities. Kai, second-in-command of the Nekoma team and thus Koushi's opposite number, was by far the more mellow and laid back of the two. Yaku, Nekoma's senior Defender pilot, hadn't warmed up to them yet; he was probably still somewhat distrustful after the battle earlier. Which only made Koushi more determined to win him over; after all, few could withstand Koushi's charms for long.

"Perhaps not today," Koushi said apologetically. He allowed his expression to morph into one of innocent curiosity. "I did overhear someone mention hot springs, however?"

"Really, Suga?" Ennoshita asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow. "I thought we were supposed to be doing reconnaissance and getting an update on the colony's status."

"And what better way to do that than to blend in with the locals?" Koushi grinned. "Besides, it's been a stressful day for us all. Why not unwind in comfort while we get to know each other?"

It took a little longer to persuade the others to go along with the idea, but Koushi was nothing if not persistent and ten minutes later they were strolling down the steeply sloping hill from the castle back towards the rest of the city — making sure to avoid the square with the protests. He kept the atmosphere light with a constant flow of cheery chatter, telling the others entertaining anecdotes or asking them innocent, open-ended questions to try to get the Nekoma pilots to talk more freely. At one point, while telling them about a prank he'd played on Daichi, he even managed to get Yaku to laugh.

"So every time I tapped on the outside of the window — well, I say tapped, but those windows have to be _thick_ so it was more like pounding on it with a wrench — I'd duck down and hide, and Daichi would peer out, mystified, until he gave up and went back to bed," Koushi explained, chuckling at the memory. "By morning he was convinced his cabin was haunted. Especially when I told him how one of the crewmembers on the passenger transport had died in that room after an unfortunate shaving accident."

Yaku's half-suppressed snort of amusement was a victory in itself — the first sign of enjoyment he'd shown so far — but what made it sweeter was the way he gazed up at Koushi with a calculating look in his eye. "You play the angel, but you're actually a devil in disguise, aren't you?" he said.

"Why, my dear Yaku, I don't know what you could possibly mean," Koushi replied, pressing his palm to his chest in mock confusion. He fluttered his eyelashes a few times for good measure. "Me? Evil?"

"Got it in one, Lieutenant," Ennoshita said dryly from the back of the group.

As they walked down a leafy avenue towards a train station, Koushi listened to Yaku tell a story of his own while looking about in interest. The street was somewhat quieter than he might have expected, but there were still plenty of people about. Their uniforms garnered some curious looks, and a few people frowned at them, but others smiled or nodded as they walked past. If the locals had been shaken by a battle occurring on their doorstep — however brief — they weren't showing it.

A quick train ride later, the four of them found themselves following a winding path past a broad rice paddy and through a small copse of fragrant, blossom-laden trees.

"How can there be hot springs on a space colony, anyway?" Yaku asked. "Surely it's just connected to the colony's water mains?"

"Yes, of course," Kai said, "but they try to make it look and feel authentic. Adding minerals and salts to the water, for instance."

Koushi glanced at him thoughtfully. "You've been before?"

Kai shook his head. "Here? No. But I've visited others before." With a mournful sigh, he added, "Unfortunately they can only ever be pale imitations of the real thing."

Before Koushi could ask more questions, they arrived at their destination: the 'Naruko Hot Spring Baths', an elegant wooden building nestled amongst the trees. Wisps of steam were visible rising into the air behind it, and there was a small outdoor seating area off to the side, overlooking a shallow valley, where a handful of people were eating and drinking.

It was just as well they had Kai with them because he was able to guide them through the surprisingly delicate etiquette of an onsen. But after purchasing admittance and a small towel each, they were soon relaxing in a gloriously warm pool of greenish-yellow water, nearly opaque. The pool was surrounded by natural-looking stones and a constant trickle of fresh, steaming-hot water flowed into it via a bamboo pipe. They almost had it to themselves, too; the only other bathers were a pair of sleepy old men at the other end.

It was a far cry from the chaos of a battle.

"Ah, that's more like it," Koushi said, groaning in pleasure as he sank into the water. He rested his head on the edge and closed his eyes. "I feel like I could stay here forever."

"It _is_ pleasant," Yaku admitted, making a few small ripples by sweeping his arms slowly through the water. "What's that weird smell, though?"

"Sulphur, mostly," Kai replied. "You'll get used to it quickly, don't worry."

Koushi opened a sleepy eye to glance at him. "You mentioned visiting the real thing?"

Kai nodded. "On Earth. When I was a child."

"Oh? You're an earthnoid, then?" Koushi asked, opening both eyes now. Earthnoids weren't exactly rare — there were about a billion people still living on Earth, after all — but most of them stayed on Earth rather than taking up jobs that required them to work in space.

"Yes, originally," Kai explained. "But my family moved into space when I was six years old." He gave Koushi a wry look. "Which was perhaps just as well, given what happened a few years later."

Kai was probably in his mid-twenties, so Koushi did the sums and nodded. "The One Year War. Not that you would have been much safer in space."

"Statistically, no," he admitted. "But it's easy for spacenoids to forget that everyone on Earth shares the same environment. It took three or four years for the atmosphere to clear, remember. And there was plenty of fighting across the surface, too."

The unpleasant topic only served to remind Koushi that they'd all been shooting at each other a couple of hours earlier, and he mentally kicked himself for his stupidity. They were supposed to be making friends, not picking at old wounds. Quickly, he changed the topic.

"So you guys have been at Miyagi for a few days now, right? What do you make of it so far?"

Yaku had scooped up a handful of the murky water and was sniffing at it suspiciously; at Koushi's question, he let it drain away through his fingers. "It's peaceful, which is more than can be said for a lot of places."

"So there hasn't been any trouble — no riots or outbreaks of violence?" Ennoshita asked. He wasn't exactly helping Koushi keep the conversation light, but it was a sensible question.

Kai shook his head. "No violence while we've been here — just the various protests, which have been orderly so far. There was the confrontation between the Governor's civilian security forces and the military garrison, back before we arrived, but even that was apparently dealt with peacefully."

"You're visitors?"

They all turned at the sound of the voice, which came from one of the old men sitting together at the far end of the pool. Sitting still with their eyes closed, Koushi had assumed they were asleep, which might also have explained their unusually wrinkled appearance. Both were now wide awake and regarding the four pilots with interest.

"Yes," Koushi said, giving them a friendly smile. "Half of us arrived today, the other half a few days ago."

"Ah," the old man said, nodding sagely. "Soldiers, then." While his companion closed his eyes again and appeared to go back to sleep, he studied them for a long minute. "Is it true, what they're saying? War's coming again?"

"I hope not," Yaku replied fervently. "Not if we can help it, at least."

"Weren't there a battle earlier today?" the man asked, frowning.

"A misunderstanding, that's all," Kai said evenly. "Nobody was hurt."

Koushi tilted his head, considering. "Do you mind if we ask _you_ a couple of questions in return?" he said, offering his most winning smile.

The old man shrugged. "Seems only fair."

While not strictly within his remit — Daichi had intended him to get an idea of the security status of the colony rather than start poking around in local politics — Koushi was of the opinion that you could learn a lot more than you'd think by asking people the right question with the right smile.

"What do you think about everything that's going on? Do you agree with Governor Ukai and his decision to resist martial law?" he asked, ignoring the wary looks from the other three pilots.

The old man leant back, considering his answer. "Old Ukai's seen us through every crisis since '87. I trust him to do the same now. But not everyone sees it that way. Lot o' people are scared, what with all the riots and such, and some folk think a firm hand is what's needed."

A cold tingle ran through Koushi's body despite being submerged in warm water. "You mean some people wanted martial law?"

The other man spoke without opening his eyes. "Two weeks ago, bunch o' young fools got it in their heads that no government was better than bad government. Ended up in a riot — lots o' people hurt. Took 'em twelve hours to put out the fires."

Nodding firmly in agreement, the first man continued. "Exactly. There's always some who think things should be this way or that way, but most people just want to go about their business without being troubled by that sort o' thing. Don't much care who's in charge, so long as they're safe." With a languid shrug, he settled back against the edge of the pool. "Things are calm now, so maybe Old Ukai was right. Time'll tell, as always."

Vaguely disquieted, Koushi nodded his thanks and turned back to the other pilots. "Seems like even Miyagi wasn't immune to the unrest of the past month."

"I'd be surprised if anywhere was," Ennoshita said, frowning.

"Hopefully the worst is over now," Kai said, staring out at the trees. "Governor Ukai is doing a good job of keeping the peace. People should be happy with that, right?"

"And we're here too," Yaku agreed. "In case we're needed."

Koushi chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking. They were right in a way — things did seem peaceful. But just like the water they were bathing in, a calm surface didn't always tell the full story. Shaking his head, he pasted on a cheerful smile and returned his attention to the others. "Enough depressing talk," he said. "We're supposed to be relaxing."

And he _was_ relaxed, physically at least; the warm waters of the bath had drained tension from his muscles that he hadn't even realised was there. It felt a bit like his body was melting.

"In fact," he continued thoughtfully, "maybe that's what we _all_ need. If our teams are going to be working together to protect Miyagi, then some way of breaking the ice and helping everyone get over the, um, 'unpleasantness' earlier on might be a good start."

"Are you talking about a team-building exercise?" Kai asked him.

Koushi raised an eyebrow at him. "Kai, surely you've learnt by now never to call something a team-building exercise if you want people to take it seriously?" While Yaku laughed, he tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling. "Besides, I was thinking something a lot more informal. You've been here long enough to figure out the best bars, right?"

"Oh no..." Ennoshita said, burying his face in his hands.

After glancing at Ennoshita in confusion, Yaku nodded. "Yeah, there's some decent ones."

"How about a pilots' night out?" Koushi asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Ennoshita groaned and Kai looked sceptical, but a considering expression appeared on Yaku's face.

"I like the way you think, Suga," he said finally, a grin slowly forming.

 


	5. Fellows

With a squeeze of the trigger, the railgun coughed out a shot that speared the enemy Defender in the chest. Tooru smiled in satisfaction as it blossomed into a fiery explosion. He kept moving, not wanting to be an easy target, but kept half his attention on the rest of his team. They were doing well on the whole, though two of his Bombardiers had taken damage and as usual Kyoutani was in danger of rushing too far ahead on his own, chasing down his opponent.

"Mad Dog, don't stray too far," he cautioned, though he spoke more for Yahaba's benefit, since Kyoutani was linked in to his Conductor rather than Tooru's Monarch.

He flagged Kunimi as in need of support, knowing that Mattsun was close enough to help, and re-allocated a couple of targets to compensate before lining up another shot on the surviving enemy Conductor. It was already hurt and his attack tore it apart, leaving the enemy team without coordination. Their opponents were already down to half their strength, so he left his Avengers to mop up the rest and recalled his long-range Bombardiers to attack the enemy mobile suit carrier, already venting atmosphere and smoke from an earlier strike.

Everything was going according to his finely tuned strategy. Aobajohsai's favoured tactic was something Tooru called 'Targeted Bombardment', which aimed to keep the fight at a distance and focus long-range fire on one or two targets at a time. Against typical opponents with older mobile suits, like the Neo Zeon holdouts or pirates they'd faced in the past, it was devastating: the enemy would usually surrender or be wiped out long before they got close enough to pose a threat.

Tooru had since tailored the tactic for use against renegade Federation targets — or 'Rebels' as everyone was now calling them — by aiming at key targets like Conductors and enemy commanders to eliminate them early on, throwing the enemy into disarray. After all, a leaderless team that couldn't communicate was merely a rabble.

He called this new version 'Targeted Decapitation'.

And there was a secondary bonus to eliminating the Conductors first: it meant they couldn't use that pesky target painting trick. Tooru would be lying if he didn't enjoy imagining that his first target in each of their simulations so far had been Tobio Kageyama — but that was merely a bonus, obviously. He wasn't so unprofessional as to let a personal vendetta affect his tactics, no matter what Iwa claimed.

Five minutes later, the simulated battle was over: the enemy mobile suits, painted black and orange like Karasuno's, were destroyed, and their heavily damaged mothership had surrendered.

It wasn't as satisfying as the real thing, of course, but Tooru was nevertheless pleased by the result. He adopted his most benevolent expression as he popped the pod's hatch, blinking a few times to adapt to the brighter lights in the rest of the simulator room.

"Well done, well done," he called, clapping as the rest of his team clambered out of their own simulator pods. "Another glorious victory over the dastardly rebels! Take a five minute break then meet for debriefing."

He studied them closely as they exited. Pilots invariably let their guard down after a battle, simulated or otherwise, and you could learn a lot about them by seeing how they behaved. It helped Tooru to adjust his feedback accordingly — perhaps by bolstering those who needed reassurance, or reining in those who were feeling overconfident. For instance, the way Kyoutani was hurriedly but unsuccessfully trying to escape Yahaba's haranguing meant that Tooru wouldn't have to call him out in front of everybody about being too reckless (again), which seldom went down well. On the other hand, Sawauchi and Shido were laughing and joking despite both of them taking heavy damage, so Tooru would probably need to bring them down a peg or two and warn them to be more careful. Especially as they had the experience to know better.

But he couldn't help but frown at Watari's downcast expression as he trailed after Yahaba and Kyoutani, or the way Kindaichi was combing his hair into that ridiculous peak he favoured with anxious, jerky strokes, while Kunimi floated beside him, pale and silent like a sleep-deprived ghost.

"You know it's creepy when you stare at everyone like that, right?" Iwa said, bumping gently to a stop against Tooru's pod.

Tooru replied with an indignant sniff. "It's not creepy, Iwa. It's _caring_. I'm merely gauging the morale of our pilots for the good of the team, as you well know."

Iwa merely grunted. "And what does your creepy stare tell you today?"

They were the last two in the simulator room now, though Makki and Mattsun were no doubt waiting outside. Tooru pursed his lips, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he formulated a reply.

"Nothing new," he admitted. "The ones that are too happy are still too happy, and the ones that are unhappy are still unhappy."

"I could have told you that much," Iwa said. "And without a creepy stare."

Tooru pushed off from the pod, drifting towards the door. "At least the simulation went well," he said. "That should keep Mizoguchi happy."

"He won't be happy until every Rebel ship is a smoking wreck," Iwa growled, following him. "And I didn't like how close you got to their Avengers. Your Monarch has no I-Field, remember. They'll carve you up if you get too close."

Sure enough, Makki and Mattsun were chatting together in the corridor outside, so Tooru gestured at Mattsun and smiled. "That's why we have such outstanding Defender pilots, Iwa! To protect me from harm so that I can continue to lead us towards inevitable victory."

Mattsun stopped mid-conversation to blink in confusion while Makki snickered. "You wouldn't need protecting if you weren't so helpless," Makki said. "You always end up focusing so much on everyone else that you forget people might start shooting at you too."

"Maybe in the next simulation we should program the enemy to take you out first," Mattsun suggested. "To prove you're not invincible. I bet we still win anyway."

Iwa smirked. "Nice idea. It'll be good training."

Tooru pressed a hand to his heart and frowned at his friends. "Tsk. This is mutiny, you know. Plotting to have your superior officer killed. And I'm wounded that you would even consider going into battle without me."

With a not-so-gentle shove, Iwa sent him floating down the corridor towards the briefing room. "Save your theatrics for your report to the bosses and get moving," he said. "Or you'll be late to your own debriefing."

"Actually, Iwa," Tooru said, smiling cheerfully at him, "I was going to leave you to do most of it anyway, as my loyal deputy. I'm supposed to join the Captain in welcoming our new friends at 1400."

They slowed to enter the gravity section, climbing down the ladders to the spinning deck below with the ease of long practice. "Why do we need reinforcements anyway?" Makki complained. "We can handle the _Karasuno_ on our own."

Privately, Tooru couldn't help but view the reinforcements as a subtle rebuke for letting the _Karasuno_ get away the first time, but he knew better than to admit that to anyone except Iwa.

"I'm sure we can wipe the floor with them," Tooru agreed blithely, "but HQ thinks two ships are better than one, and the _Karasuno_ isn't the only Rebel ship out there." He took a moment to acclimatise himself to the gravity again — it wouldn't do for the commander of a top mobile suit team to trip and fall in front of his loyal pilots — then set off towards the briefing room. "It'll mean more work for us, of course, because now we also have to train to work together with another team."

"Who's in command?" Iwa asked gruffly. He'd already made his feelings about it clear earlier, when Tooru first broke the news; there had been swearing involved.

"Irihata, officially." Tooru straightened his hair as he walked; he had appearances to maintain, after all. "I imagine we'll stay close enough for mutual support, but otherwise operate independently most of the time. We can cover more ground if we search separately." He stopped outside the briefing room, turning to face the others. "Just think of it as having a sidekick! Like a loyal dog running at our heels." When his bright grin failed to have any impact on their sceptical expressions, he let his shoulders slump and sighed. "Alright, fine, it's not ideal. But just like everything else about this shitty situation, we'll simply have to make the best of it. So no bitching in front of the children, okay?"

They nodded; Makki even grinned. "Yes Mother," he said, adding a cheeky salute.

Mattsun tilted his head and frowned. "If Tooru's the mother, and Iwa's the father, then who are we?"

"The cool uncles, obviously," Makki said, flashing him a peace sign. "The ones who inspire the kids with their cool tricks and awesome stories."

Iwa had been following the exchange with narrowed eyes when something clicked behind his eyes and he scowled. "Hey, that better not make Crappykawa my wife."

Tooru had chosen that moment to press the door controls, leaving Iwa standing in the doorway, his face bright red with fury and embarrassment, while a room full of pilots tried (and largely failed) to stifle their laughter. For his part, Tooru strode serenely over to the lectern with a smirk of satisfaction and a twinkle in his eye. Iwa would doubtless get his revenge sometime later, but for now Tooru would revel in his minor victory.

The incident at least had everyone smiling, he noted, as he swept his gaze across the room and waited for Iwa, Makki, and Mattsun to take their seats. He knew many of them were finding it difficult to be hunting down fellow soldiers, and not all of them were sure they were on the right side in the first place, but that was the situation in which they found themselves and they all looked to Tooru to see them safely through it. He had no intention of letting them down.

"So," he began, favouring them with a broad, confident smile that he didn't really feel, "who got the highest score?"

He went through the battle with them, praising them on their success while pointing out areas to improve, and kept them chuckling by mocking their opponents (simulated and otherwise) and making the occasional gentle jab at the older team members, the ones he knew could take it in their stride. This was one of the parts of the job he enjoyed the most — and not just because it made him the centre of attention, as Iwa claimed. He really did feel like the conductor of an orchestra, flicking his baton as he used carefully aimed words and proud smiles to tune his pilots into a harmonious chorus.

Perhaps he did get a little carried away, however, as he was running late when he finally handed the debriefing over to Iwa and hurried towards the starboard hangar. Even as part of his mind ran down his ever-growing to-do list — give a pep talk to Watari at some point, find time to give the two rookies some individual training, put together a contingency plan for them to test out just in case he actually was knocked out early in a battle — Tooru turned a part of his attention to the upcoming meeting. The new ship, the _Dateko,_ had a good reputation, if not quite as stellar as the _Aobajohsai_ 's, of course. But he didn't know much about their individual officers. He simply hadn't had time to do more than research a few key names and rough biographies, so he hoped that would be sufficient.

Tooru disliked the hangars. They were noisy and full of strange smells, and the enormous but comparatively thin hangar doors always made him slightly nervous when he wasn't wearing his pressure suit and helmet. The doors were kept open during action, to prevent an explosive decompression of the large volume should they ever be penetrated, but unlike a typical airlock, there was only a single set of doors, not a double set. If someone hit the wrong button (okay, several wrong buttons, some safety overrides, and a very loud alarm), the doors could start opening and they'd all just get blown out into the void.

He cleared his throat and turned his attention towards the shuttle that now sat in the centre of the hangar, or rather the cluster of people climbing out of it. He spotted the _Dateko_ 's captain, Takurou Oiwake, easily enough; he was a stern looking man, with swept-back hair and what looked like a perpetual frown. Tooru hoped he wasn't as bad-tempered as he appeared.

"About time," Mizoguchi muttered as Tooru joined him and Captain Irihata, who were anchored to the deck and waiting at a polite distance from the shuttle.

"My apologies, sir," Tooru replied evenly. "The debriefing took longer than expected."

There was no time for further excuses, however, because the Dateko officers were walking over in the peculiar stomping gait that magnetic soles forced you to use. Captain Oiwake was in the lead, and Tooru recognised Lt Cmdr Moniwa, commanding their mobile suit team, as well as three other pilots and another officer — probably a bridge officer, judging by the insignia of her uniform.

They all stopped — in a reasonably straight line — and exchanged salutes with Tooru, Mizoguchi, and the captain, after which Irihata formally welcomed them aboard the _Aobajohsai._ After the requisite pleasantries had been exchanged, Irihata offered to give Oiwake and his operations officer, Nametsu, a brief tour, leaving the pilots in Tooru's care. Two of them had already tottered off to get a closer look at the mobile suits, like children lured away by the smell of cookies; a third was keeping a watchful eye on them, leaving only Moniwa to pay any attention to Tooru.

"I wish we were here under better circumstances," Moniwa said once the others were gone. He studied Tooru a moment before giving him a hesitant smile. "But it's an honour to meet you, Lieutenant Commander Oikawa. I've heard a lot about you."

"Only good things, I hope?" Tooru asked, smiling sweetly — though from the way Moniwa glanced away rather than meeting his gaze, probably not.

Moniwa struck him as the anxious, hard-working type, the sort of person who rose through the ranks not because they sought power but because they were deemed reliable and didn't have the common sense to complain when new responsibilities were repeatedly foisted upon them. And there was something about him reminded Tooru of a twitchy rabbit; maybe it was the way Moniwa kept absently tapping his leg with his fingers, or the way his eyes wouldn't keep still for more than a few seconds, always keeping watch on his surroundings.

Under ordinary circumstances, Tooru would have asserted his dominance over a fellow commander by pinning them with a piercing stare and a knowing smile until they felt compelled to spill their darkest secrets, but he suspected if he tried it on Moniwa, the poor man might actually liquefy. Besides, these weren't ordinary circumstances, and he didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with someone who might hold Tooru's life in his hands at some point.

So rather than let Moniwa stew any longer, he turned his attention to the other three pilots. All of them dwarfed Moniwa by a considerable margin — especially the tallest, a giant of a man with pale hair and almost invisible eyebrows. "Maybe you should introduce your pilots?" he suggested.

Moniwa cleared his throat, obviously glad of the change of subject. "Yes! Of course, sorry." He gestured to the loudest, a well-built guy with dyed hair who looked like he epitomised the phrase 'brawn over brains'. "This is my second in command, Lieutenant Kamasaki."

Hearing his name, Kamasaki turned around to nod, giving Tooru a grin. "Some nice suits you've got there. Is that a Monarch?"

"It is indeed," Tooru said, unable to hold back a smile despite his poor first impression of the man. He was undeniably proud of his mobile suit.

"Hybrid, right?" Kamasaki asked, studying it. "Barrage and coordination, if I remember rightly. Well-maintained too, by the looks of it — and maybe a few after-market customisations?"

So maybe not a complete idiot after all. At least the man knew quality when he saw it. "That's correct." Tooru stared past him at where the giant war machine stood silently against the hangar wall, painted in the familiar white and turquoise colours of Aobajohsai. "A Monarch has no I-Field, but it has a lot more firepower than a standard Conductor." Which suited him perfectly; while combat coordination was where his greatest talents lay, he found the standard role to be too passive for his liking. The railguns and missiles provided by the Monarch gave him a lot more options for getting more personally involved. "There are a few other minor upgrades too, but I like to keep them as a surprise."

The fourth pilot — a young lieutenant with mischievous eyes and a sly grin — cleared his throat. "So, how do I get my hands on one of these special custom mobile suits, exactly?"

"We don't have any," Moniwa explained in an aside to Tooru, disappointment clear in his tone. "Just the standard types. This is Futakuchi, by the way. He and Kamasaki were both curious to see how things work aboard the _Aobajohsai_."

"Why would _you_ get one?" Kamasaki demanded of his junior. "I'm the ace, remember."

Futakuchi raised his chin in challenge and folded his arms. "Not for long. I'm catching up fast. Besides, you're old and crusty; I bet you couldn't handle a new suit. They ought to give them to younger pilots who aren't set in their ways yet."

"Old and crusty?!"

A little taken aback, Tooru glanced at Moniwa in confusion; Moniwa simply sighed, rubbing his forehead, and nodded to the remaining pilot — the pale-haired giant standing silently nearby — who promptly planted his feet between the two bickering men and shoved them apart, sending them floating away from each other with matching squawks of alarm.

"And this is Aone," Moniwa explained wearily. "I brought him along to keep the other two under control."

Tooru stared up at the unsmiling colossus, who gave him only a curt nod of greeting in return. "I see," he said, already getting a feel for the dynamics of the Dateko team. "Nice to meet you, Aone."

"So," Moniwa said, dropping his voice to an almost conspiratorial level; Tooru had to strain to hear him over the noise of the hangar. "Is it true that you've already engaged a Rebel ship already?"

Tooru narrowed his eyes, trying to determine whether it was a genuine question or some kind of dig. "Yes. But that was before the new rules of engagement were issued."

Moniwa shifted uncomfortably. "Do you think it'll really come down to fighting?" he said quietly. "The Rebels have to realise they're outnumbered, right?"

"I heard that the Rebels are building up a fleet around their so-called 'government-in-exile' over at Side 1," Kamasaki declared loudly, thereby ruining Moniwa's attempts at discretion. He'd regained his footing and was clomping back towards them. "Beats me why we don't just get a fleet of our own together and head over there to sort this out in a single strike."

And back to brawn over brains again. "Perhaps," Tooru said, with as much insincere politeness as he could muster, "because there's still hope of resolving the situation without wiping out a colony group and half the Earth Federation Space Force."

For all the ultimatums and angry accusations being fired back and forth, thus far the actual fighting had been limited to small skirmishes between isolated Rebel and Loyalist ships and a few 'enforcement actions' on particularly vocal colonies. The new military government — the Junta, as everyone called them — was playing it smart; they weren't eager to repeat the mistakes of ten years ago, when the Titans had tried to set up their own military dictatorship. Instead, they kept talking about safety, security, and restoring trust in the Federation by removing corrupt politicians and other troublemakers — hoping to win people over without resorting to force.

If the Rebels knew what was good for them — good for _everyone_ — they'd negotiate some kind of amnesty for themselves and surrender. Then the fighting could stop altogether.

Futakuchi had been slowly spinning towards the nearest bulkhead, cursing repeatedly, but Aone had taken pity on him and had pulled him back down to the deck. "They better not all give up before I get to make a name for myself," he said, straightening out his uniform after his undignified tumble in the air. "This is my chance to show what I can do. And get myself one of those fancy custom mobile suits!"

Which gave Tooru an idea. He turned a predatory smile on Moniwa. "Showing what we can do sounds like an excellent suggestion," he said. "I'm sure we're going to be working closely together in the coming weeks, so why don't we kick off our partnership with some team versus team training? I'm very interested to see what tactics you've developed to deal with the Rebels."

Moniwa's eyes widened. "Oh, um, well we still have quite a few rookies that we're trying to train up, and —"

"Bring it on!" Kamasaki declared. "We never back down from a challenge."

Aone grunted in assent and when Futakuchi laughed and added his agreement too, Tooru almost felt sorry for Moniwa, who was rubbing his forehead again.

Almost.

"Excellent," he said, smiling broadly. "Then I'll make the necessary preparations. In the meantime, perhaps you would care for some refreshments?"

Tooru had expected the arrival of the _Dateko_ to be a distraction at best and an annoyance at worst, but maybe he'd been too hasty. It might even end up being fun.

 

* * *

 

Tadashi absently poked at his burns while he waited for Tsukki to open his hatch. It was a bad habit, one he'd already been scolded for by the medics (and Tsukki), but he just couldn't help it. Thanks to the numbing burn ointment it wasn't very painful, just a strange, tight sensation along his arm — like his skin had shrunk and was too small for him — that he kept unconsciously probing with his other hand.

The hatch swished open, revealing the looming form of Kei Tsukishima within. When he stood like that in the doorway, blocking the light behind him, it was like an eclipse.

Tsukki took one look at his face and then moved aside with a sigh, granting silent permission to enter.

After closing the hatch behind Tadashi, Tsukki strode over to his bunk and laid back down on it; he'd obviously been reading a datapad, and he picked it and continued from where he'd left off without a word. Tadashi hovered for a moment, sweeping his eyes around the small cabin, before perching on the edge of the seat at Tsukki's desk. Soft electronic music hummed from the computer's speakers, a hypnotic beat that had him nodding along before he knew it, and he smiled at the trio of small dinosaur figurines that sat beside the monitor. The fierce tyrannosaurus was glaring right at him, as though staking its claim to the desktop and daring him to trespass.

"Stop prodding at your arm," Tsukki said, without taking his eyes off his datapad.

Tadashi hadn't realised he'd started again; he sat on his hands instead. "Sorry Tsukki."

The music track finished and a new one started up, faster this time, though the melody was slow to kick in.

"Are you going to join everyone at this bar later?" he asked, wondering what Tsukki was reading. Knowing him, it could be anything from an instruction manual to a classical novel to a philosophical treatise. He was nothing if not voracious in his reading habits.

Tsukki tapped a button to turn the page. "I wasn't planning on it, no." Tadashi could see his eyes skip back to the opposite corner. He always read so quickly.

"I thought it was quite a good idea, a nice way of letting both teams get to know each other," Tadashi said. Especially after their first meeting had been so... explosive. "I've asked around and it sounds like everyone else is going, except for Commander Sawamura because he's attending a meeting with the other senior officers. Well, I don't know about Kageyama, because I couldn't find him to ask him."

"He's probably in the simulators again," Tsukki said, a smirk pulling at his mouth. "He might as well start living inside one of those pods."

Tadashi chuckled at the thought. "He's certainly dedicated," he agreed. "He's probably racked up more sim time than the rest of us combined. Except Hinata, at least, since Sawamura told them both to keep practising their Quickshot trick." Not that Hinata seemed to mind. Then again, from what Tadashi had seen, Hinata seemed to be enthusiastic about everything. Endless training in the simulators? Great! Combat with an unidentified warship? Fantastic! Waffles for breakfast? Awesome! It was contagious, too; more than once Tadashi had found himself getting carried along in his wake.

A click of his tongue was Tsukki's only response to that. He still hadn't forgiven Hinata for that stick insect comment.

But Tadashi wasn't about to let Tsukki change the subject. "Please, Tsukki — I don't want to go on my own," he said, injecting just the right mixture of wheedling and helplessness into his voice. "What if I end up having to sit with Noya and Tanaka? You know how terrifying they get when they're together!"

"I know exactly what they're like, which is why I don't want to go."

Tadashi freed his hands from under his legs before they could go totally numb and shook them to try to rid them of their pins and needles. "Don't you think it's important to get to know the Nekoma pilots? Especially if we're going to be working closely with them to protect the colony."

"As long as they don't shoot me in the back, I don't particularly care who they are," Tsukki said, turning the page again.

"That sounds risky if you ask me," Tadashi said airily. "After all, if you don't meet them, you won't know which ones are most likely to shoot you in the back." He shrugged. "Besides, you might even like some of them. Hinata said their lead coordinator is like some kind of mastermind."

"I highly doubt that."

Tadashi ran a finger along the desktop, as if checking for dust (there wasn't any, of course). "And Nekoma are a defence-focused team. As a Defender pilot yourself, maybe you can learn something from them. Since you refuse to take advice from Noya."

"That's because Noya's sage wisdom consists entirely of onomatopoeic gibberish," Tsukki replied, frowning. "I've spoken to toddlers who are more intelligible."

Tadashi snorted, trying to hold in his laughter. If he let Tsukki distract him with his acerbic barbs he'd never get anywhere. "Their commander's got one of those new prototype Guardians," he pointed out. "They don't hand out suits like that to just anyone, you know. If he's qualified to fly a hybrid suit, he must have some skill, right?"

"Maybe," Tsukki said before shooting him a smug glance. "But he'll probably be at the senior officers' meeting with Sawamura."

Damn. "But they still have another three Defender pilots," he pointed out. "And even Noya admitted they were top notch." He forced himself to stop prodding his arm — when had he even started again? — and clasped his hands. Time to bring out the big guns; if he couldn't appeal to Tsukki's sense of logic, he'd appeal to his sense of humour, warped as it was. "Plus there'll be alcohol there, so you'll get to see everybody make fools of themselves once they get tipsy. Maybe you can even score some useful blackmail material."

Tadashi recognised that twitch of Tsukki's lips. He'd swallowed the bait; now to reel his prey in and seal the deal. "Besides, if you don't go, you're leaving it up to people like Tanaka and Kinoshita to tell Nekoma about you. You know I'm too shy around new people to correct them. Who knows what they might say..."

Tsukki thumbed the datapad off and let it rest on his chest. "If someone is prepared to believe Tanaka's assessment on anything, then they're a moron, which makes their opinions automatically worthless in any case," he said, shooting Tadashi a weary look. "But since I also know you'll keep pestering me until you finally guilt me into going, I suppose I have no choice."

Tadashi grinned at him, adding another mark to his mental tally of personal victories. "Thanks Tsukki!"

" _But_ ," Tsukki said, narrowing his eyes, "if Nekoma is full of yet more loud, obnoxious people, I'll blame you for the subsequent murder spree."

"You mean you won't murder me first?" he said, still smiling victoriously. "I'm touched, Tsukki."

Tsukki sniffed indignantly. "Of course not, Tadashi. I am not an idiot. I'll frame you by murdering you last and making it look like you were so overcome by your bloodthirsty deeds that you committed suicide."

"The perfect crime," Tadashi said, chuckling. "I'd expect nothing less."

Another track started playing, one he recognised — slower, more melancholy. Tsukki had explained it was from the soundtrack of a tragic cyberpunk movie, which didn't surprise him. Tadashi preferred more upbeat stuff, but he could appreciate the skillful way that the piece was put together.

Tsukki sat up, leaning against the bulkhead with his long legs stretched out across the bed in front of him. He regarded Tadashi closely, giving him the appraising look that Tadashi privately called his 'full sensor sweep'.

"Why do you want to go so badly, anyway?" he asked at last. "There'll be other opportunities to meet the Nekoma pilots, and you know the cargomaster has a stash of alcohol smuggled aboard if you just wanted to get drunk."

It was one of those process-of-elimination questions that Tsukki liked to ask when he thought he already knew the answer, but wanted to give Tadashi the opportunity to incriminate himself first. He was nice like that.

That was the downside of knowing Tsukki so well, of course. Yes, nearly two decades of study made Tadashi the world's leading expert in deciphering (and navigating) the treacherously shifting currents of the fathomless ocean that was Kei Tsukishima. But in that same time, Tsukki had come to know him well enough in return to disassemble him down to an atomic level and rebuild him again while blindfolded.

There were no secrets from Tsukki. Not for long, anyway.

Tadashi sighed, clutching the seat of the chair to keep his hands occupied and away from his burns. "I just don't want to end up isolated, Tsukki. Nor you, for that matter."

"This again," Tsukki said, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, _this_ again," Tadashi said, glaring at him. "I know you hate to admit it, but you know I'm right. We're... we're renegades, now. Outlaws, like you said. There's no way of knowing how long this crazy martial law stuff will last, and until it then we're all going to have to rely on each other." He frowned as Tsukki scoffed and pre-empted the words he knew would follow. "Yes, even those 'loudmouthed imbeciles', Tsukki. Even Kageyama! It wouldn't kill you to lay off him a bit, you know."

"I told you what he did," Tsukishima shot back, eyes narrowed. "He shouldn't be a pilot, let alone one in our team."

"But he is, like it or not." Tadashi shrugged. "And we don't know the full circumstances, either. It was an accident, right? If Kageyama really was to blame, they would have expelled him from his academy."

"Unless his mother is an influential admiral," Tsukki said darkly. "Oh wait! Guess what: she is." He tapped a couple of commands into his datapad and then held it out for Tadashi to take; it showed a stern-looking woman, tall and striking, in a dress uniform with more ribbons than he'd ever seen before. And now that he knew to look for it, the family resemblance was clear; she even had the same frown that Kageyama often wore.

"Holy shit. Admiral Kageyama is his _mother_?" He looked up at Tsukki, blinking in amazement. "Doesn't she command one of the big fleets?"

"The 2nd Fleet at Luna II," Tsukki said, nodding. "And his father commands a ground-based mobile suit regiment in the Army."

"How do you even know all this?" Tadashi asked, staring down at the admiral's portrait again; she was standing at attention at some kind of memorial service, along with a dozen other high-ranking officers. There was enough gold braid there to fill a treasure chest.

Tsukki smirked. "I have my sources."

"Alright," Tadashi conceded uncertainly, handing the datapad back and trying to ignore the way his hand trembled. "Kageyama's got friends in high places. But it's still just hearsay."

Tsukki obviously heard the doubt in his voice because his only response was a derisive snort.

Tadashi knew a losing battle when he saw one, but he was unwilling to let Kageyama's chequered past derail his argument. "Either way," he said stubbornly, "there's nine more pilots on our team, and another twelve on Nekoma's. We have to trust them, Tsukki, and they have to trust us. Otherwise it'll get us killed."

He didn't miss the way Tsukki's gaze flicked towards his injured arm, still dressed in a breathable bandage underneath his uniform sleeve. Feeling self-conscious, he hid it behind his back.

"I already said I'd go tonight," Tsukki said, frowning down at his bunk. "And we get on well enough with the rest of the Karasuno pilots."

_Mainly thanks to me apologising on your behalf every time you rile them up_ , Tadashi thought to himself. But out loud he only said, "How many of them do you think would go out of their way to save your life?" He sighed, not wanting to get into an argument. Tsukki was already getting defensive, and pushing him further right now would only be counter-productive. "Look, I've made my point. Just... try your best to engage a little more, okay? So I don't have to worry as much, if nothing else."

Tsukki gave him a long, unreadable stare. "We could take Takeda up on his offer, you know," he said softly. "Leave the _Karasuno_ here and try to make our way back to somewhere sane, like Luna or Earth. This isn't our fight, after all."

"Isn't our fight?!" Tadashi spluttered, shooting to his feet. "When exactly _will_ it be our fight, Tsukki?" He paced back and forth in the small space, running both hands through his hair and wincing at the unpleasant stretching of his left arm. "You said in the briefing yesterday that we had a moral duty, but we already sat out the fight against Nekoma —" though in his own case he didn't have much choice anyway, since his mobile suit was still only partly functional, "— and it's not like we had much impact on the fight with Aobajohsai."

"Tadashi..." Tsukki said, before standing up as well and grabbing him by the shoulder to halt him as he paced past. "Tadashi! Calm down." He gently pushed Tadashi back towards the chair, waiting until he sat down again, before taking a seat on the bed opposite.

Taking a few deep breaths, Tadashi sat on his shaking hands once more and met Tsukki's stern gaze. "I _want_ this to be our fight, Tsukki," he said firmly, trying to convince himself as much as his friend. "Because it's a cause worth fighting for. But I'm not strong enough to do it by myself."

"Then we'll stay," Tsukki replied, as lightly as if they were still talking about going to the bar that night and not talking about deserting. Did it really matter so little to him? "Stop freaking out about it, okay? It was just an idea."

With a weak smile, Tadashi nodded. "Sorry, Tsukki."

 

* * *

 

Maybe this was some sort of purgatory, Tobio wondered. Trapped in a confined space and doomed to live out the same death again and again and again, with only a hyperactive idiot for company.

"I don't understand," he said, pressing his head back against the seat as his screens went dark and the simulation ended yet again. "You managed it fine yesterday — in a real battle, outnumbered, against a new opponent. Why can't you do it _now_?"

It wasn't as if they were even trying anything special — it was just a simulation based on that same battle against Nekoma, except tweaked so that both sides were really trying to kill each other instead.

" _If I knew, I'd be able to fix it, Kageyama!"_ Hinata complained. " _But I did get a couple of shots in that time._ _Let's try again!"_

"No, wait," Tobio said. "We can't just keep doing the same thing over and over. Think first. Try to remember back to yesterday — there must be something you did differently." He reached out to grab the bottle floating next to him and sucked down some water; he'd quickly learnt that bringing a drink was a necessity during their marathon training sessions.

" _I told you, I don't —"_

"Because you're too busy whining about trying again instead of remembering!" he snapped. "Stop making noise for once in your life, close your eyes, and _think_."

The battle against Nekoma had been an eye-opener for Tobio. He'd been expecting — and training against — the sorts of tactics that Oikawa and Aobajohsai might have used: aggressive, focused, and with lots of long-range attacks. Nekoma's defensive strategy had been a horrible surprise, and the heavy use of smoke and decoys in particular was a challenge for the Quickshot. They couldn't shoot what they couldn't see, after all.

And yet somehow Hinata had pulled it off anyway, though he'd been lucky Noya had been covering him or Nekoma might have picked him off as he charged headlong through the smoke clouds and minefields.

If Tobio didn't know better, he'd say that the problem was Hinata over-thinking it. In both real battles, Hinata was probably nervous and full of adrenaline, and no doubt acting on instinct; but in the simulators, where the stakes were much lower and there was more time to think, maybe those instincts were dulled.

But that was absurd, right? Hinata had probably never over-thought anything in his life.

Tobio sighed, opening his pod. They'd tried pretty much everything else, so maybe it was worth a go.

He floated over to Hinata's pod and hit the override, opening it from the outside; Hinata blinked up at him in surprise. "I was thinking, honest!" he protested. "Why are you interrupting me now?"

"Did you figure it out?" Tobio asked, arms crossed impatiently.

Hinata scratched his head. "Well, no..." He looked down at the controls and let out a puzzled hum. "Honestly, it's hard to remember the details. It all blurs together in my head."

"So maybe it's not what you did, but how you felt," Tobio said. "Maybe you perform best under pressure, when you're scared or excited."

Frowning, Hinata nodded slowly as he considered that. "Maybe," he said. "But how can we know for sure?"

"I could fetch a gun and threaten to shoot you if you fuck it up again," Tobio suggested hopefully.

Hinata didn't seem impressed by that; he just gave Tobio a wry look before unfastening his harness and standing up, stretching his limbs with a groan. "Sorry, Kageyama," he said. "You're not _that_ scary. Even you wouldn't actually try to murder me." He reached down and fetched his own water bottle, taking a long drink from it.

Tobio looked away, trying to keep a swell of turbulent emotions from showing on his face. Maybe Hinata wouldn't be saying that if... No, focus on the task at hand. What else could they try? Short of attempted murder, that is.

"We could fight," he suggested, raising his eyebrows. "Physically, I mean."

Hinata lowered his bottle and coughed out a laugh, his expression caught halfway between amusement and disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Tobio shrugged. He didn't really expect Hinata to go for the idea, but it wasn't as crazy as it sounded. "It'd be a real threat, wouldn't it? Then straight after we can jump back in the pods and try again." Plus it might let them burn off some of their frustration, which was no bad thing.

For a moment, Hinata actually seemed to consider it, but then he checked his watch and shook his head. "I do wanna try that, but not today," he said. "We've only got thirty minutes or so before I have to go."

"Isn't this more important than going to some bar?" Tobio said. He made no attempt to hide his displeasure, though he couldn't help but be surprised too: it was the first time Hinata had ever suggested calling a halt to their training early.

"Tell you what," Hinata said, rolling his eyes, "we'll compromise." He clambered out of the pod, anchored his feet on the deck, and then leaned back against the smooth round surface of the simulator. "Hit me."

Tobio's jaw dropped. "What?"

"Hit me! Not in the face, but anywhere else," Hinata said brightly. "And then if I screw up the Quickshot in the next sim, you get to hit me again, hard as you can. That way I've got some real stakes to worry about." His smile took on a sharp edge and he added, "But if I pull it off, I get to hit _you_. Maybe a little extra motivation for you will help too."

"That's crazy!" Tobio protested. To spar in the gym was one thing, but to hit someone when they weren't even fighting back... "No way."

"Oh, worried I might win and get to hit you back?" Hinata said, waggling his eyebrows. "You should be!" He spread his arms, holding them to either side to offer no resistance. "C'mon, Wimpyama!"

Reluctantly, Tobio settled into a combat stance — but then he shook his head. He couldn't do it. Hinata was a scrawny little guy and Tobio was no bully. What if he actually hurt him? Broke a rib or something? No, it wasn't worth the risk.

"No."

Hinata let his arms drop back to his sides. "I can take it, you know!" he said suspiciously. "You better not be going easy on me just because I'm smaller than you. I bet I could kick your ass in a fight."

Tobio thought it extremely unlikely, but that wasn't the point. "I just don't like the idea of hitting someone who isn't fighting back," he said, folding his arms defensively and hoping his face wasn't reddening. "Feels wrong, that's all."

Head tilted to one side and squinting like he was trying to see through Tobio's skull, Hinata stared at him thoughtfully for several seconds. "I didn't peg you as a softy, Kageyama."

Tobio growled at the implication. "I'm not! And I'll prove it when we fight for real, in a proper sparring match in the gym. You'll be begging for mercy."

"Sure, whatever you say." Hinata climbed back inside the simulator pod and re-fastened his harness. "But even if you're going to chicken out, let's give the sim one last try anyway. I've got a good feeling this time!"

And so, for the ninth time that day, they found themselves once more approaching Miyagi Colony with Nekoma flying out to meet them.

"Remember, steer clear of the smoke," he warned as Nekoma's Defenders began firing rockets.

_"I know, I know!_ " Hinata replied, speaking across the simulator pod comms system now.

"You know, maybe it would be easier if you were in a Bombardier," Tobio mused, following Hinata as they made their way under the dense cloud. "That way you wouldn't have to get within particle rifle range at all. You could sit back and use railguns instead."

Hinata sputtered with indignation. _"Who wants to be stuck in a boring Bombardier? I'm an Avenger pilot, Kageyama!"_

Tobio let out a short sigh, almost a huff of frustration. Why did it have to be Hinata of all people?

At Suga's suggestion, he had tested the Quickshot out with the other members of the team, including their two Bombardier pilots. But no: Hinata held the singular distinction of being the sole pilot on the team who could keep up with him. Nishinoya was the only other person who came close, as long as they planned out the targets in advance, but even if he could match Hinata's success rate (inconsistent as it was), Nishinoya was a Defender pilot, not an Avenger pilot. And nobody else had managed even a single successful hit, either unable to react fast enough or unwilling to trust Tobio's targeting abilities.

_"Why don't we try going straight through the smoke this time, as fast as possible?"_ Hinata suggested. _"We'll be blind at first, but nobody will see us coming either."_

Even though Hinata wasn't able to see him, Tobio shook his head out of habit. "No. It'll probably be mined again. Or there might be an enemy waiting outside the smoke, ready to ambush us."

" _Then I'll fight them! That's why I'm here, right?_ "

"Just do it my way, Hinata," he said impatiently.

" _But why? My idea gives us the element of surprise._ "

Tobio rubbed his eyes. They itched like his eyelids were made of sandpaper; he had a tendency to forget to blink when he was concentrating on his Conductor's sensors. "Think about it, dumbass," he said slowly. "The Quickshot relies on my sensors getting a firm read on the target first, then I have to light it up with a painter. And I can't do any of that when I'm blinded by smoke or heavy interference."

" _So?_ "

"So," he said, dragging the word out, "it's not instant, is it? In the time it takes my sensors to recalibrate after leaving the smoke, then for me to target someone, and then for you to shoot, we'll both already be dead."

There was a pause. " _Oh,"_ Hinata said. " _Yeah, that makes sense."_

Tobio sighed again. Maybe one of the Nekoma pilots could pull off the Quickshot, and then he could try to persuade Sawamura to transfer them. Or even transfer Tobio to Nekoma instead. "How can you not know this stuff, Hinata? Did you never fly a Conductor during your training? Did you fall asleep when your instructors explained how sensors work?"

" _I know how sensors work!_ " Another pause, longer this time. " _Mostly, anyway. But I only flew a Conductor once, in the simulator. I hated it."_

"Figures," he said. "You need a brain to be able to fly a Conductor."

" _Hey, shut it, Kageyama_ ," Hinata growled. " _Conductors are boring anyway. You just sit there and target stuff and let everyone else do the work."_

_"_ It's the most important role on the battlefield!" Tobio snarled back. "Without it, you assault pilots just buzz around like clueless flies! You're as likely to shoot each other as you are the enemy."

The very first time Tobio had tried combat coordination, he'd fallen in love with it. It gave him the dominant role and connected him to the battle on an almost subconscious level, letting him see everything that was going on and giving him control over it all. Sure, it was difficult — requiring excellent multitasking skills and intense concentration — but he wouldn't trade that feeling of awareness, of _focus,_ for the world.

" _Whatever. Are you ready? We're nearly past the smoke."_

Even if that meant being aware of his annoying teammates as well. "Of course I'm ready."

So just like the last eight times that day, he and Hinata zipped forwards, moving as fast as their mobile suits could manage. And just like before, their opponents — the simulated Nekoma team — laid down a series of barriers and obstacles while trying to pick them off as they advanced. Tobio used his I-Field to shield both himself and Hinata as they dodged and weaved, working around the enemy defences rather than ploughing straight through as Hinata had wanted. It took longer, but it was safer and gave his sensors more time to pick out the enemy, providing target locks for them.

Then it was just a matter of aiming his laser target painters — a task which was made a lot easier by the zoomed-in view on his target monitor, so he could see which part of the enemy he was aiming at — and letting Hinata shoot them.

Which he did. Again and again and again, until the enemy closed up behind I-Fields and backed away under covering fire. Even though the whole thing was Tobio's idea, and he was the one initiating it, it was still eerie to witness. When it actually worked, there was something almost inhuman about it. Sometimes Hinata was so fast that to Tobio it felt almost like he was the one firing the shots himself: they followed almost the instant he flicked on the laser.

That insane speed was why it worked at all, of course. The moment his laser activated, an alarm would sound in the enemy's cockpit, alerting them that they were being targeted, and — depending on the enemy pilot's reflexes — a moment later they would evade. If the particle rifle shot didn't follow up almost immediately, it would simply miss. And it was a lot easier for the enemy pilot to instinctively yank the controls and hit the thrusters than it was for a pilot to pick out the highlighted enemy target on their display, align their rifle with it so that the aim assist would lock on, and pull the trigger. At the distances and speeds that mobile suit combat was fought, even a single second delay could mean a shot missing by tens of metres or more.

_"Let's close in and finish the job_ ," Hinata said jubilantly. He was already flaring his thrusters as he charged on ahead, leaving Tobio to follow.

"Wait, let me at least cover you, dumbass!" he yelled, giving chase.

If only Hinata would _listen_. Tobio knew that if he would just do what he was told, they'd be able to pull off even greater feats.

Instead, Hinata would zoom off and do something stupid, like cling to the enemy Conductor and beg him to stop, or — in this case — get torn apart by a Bombardier's missile because he was too fixated on trying to blast his own target with his rifle. He was way too reckless.

Tobio ended the simulation with a long sigh. There was no point in continuing it alone, after all.

_"Sorry,_ " Hinata said timidly. " _I should have seen that coming_."

"I can't understand it," Tobio said, genuinely baffled. "You're not a terrible pilot. And you have incredible reflexes. But your flight skills are so undisciplined, your technical knowledge is so full of holes... Either you were a terrible cadet or your academy must have been bottom of the league."

There was no reply and for a minute Tobio wondered if he'd finally pissed off Hinata so much that he'd simply stormed off, but then his pod split open to reveal a furious, red-faced Hinata jabbing a finger at his face.

"Look, shithead, just because you went to some fancy elite academy doesn't mean that everyone who didn't is worthless," he snapped, just shy of yelling. "I finished tenth in my class."

Tobio batted his accusing finger away. "Tenth out of how many? Ten?" he shot back angrily. "If it wasn't your academy, then it must be you. Did you spend the whole time playing video games or something?"

Hinata narrowed his eyes. His small hands were clenched, his knuckles going white. "Tenth out of 79. And for the record, I took it very seriously. I wasn't there to waste time."

"Seventy-nine?" Tobio said, startled. "That's all? There were nearly 300 in my class at Kitagawa." He frowned, trying to remember where Hinata said he'd been trained. "What was your academy again?"

"Yukigaoka. At Side 2."

Shaking his head, Tobio figured it was no wonder he'd forgotten it. Until Hinata had first mentioned it he'd never even heard of it. And with class sizes that small, it must be a backwater place — a far cry from the elite academies that regularly produced the top cadets, like Kitagawa or Chidoriyama. Sure, they were all supposed to meet a minimum standard in theory, but in practice a lot of the smaller academies were there simply to make up the numbers. "Could you not get into somewhere better?" he asked, genuinely dumbfounded. "You might not have got into Kitagawa, but surely one of the middle-ranked academies —"

Hinata grabbed him by the collar. "Not everyone had the same opportunities as you," he said, and for a moment Tobio was sure Hinata was going to punch him. Instead he let go with a sigh and stormed back over to his pod, his magnetic boots clomping hard on the metal deck. "I swear, Kageyama, if you weren't such a good pilot..."

"...What?" Tobio asked when Hinata trailed off, wondering what he was going to say.

"I've met plenty of arrogant pilots from so-called top academies," Hinata explained, fetching his water bottle and interrupting himself to drain it dry, leaving him gasping. "Most of them aren't half as good as they think they are." He glared at Tobio, his face scrunched up like he was sucking on an old chemical acid battery. "The stuff you say... Coming from anyone else, it would be laughable. But dammit, you actually have the skill to back it up."

Tobio wasn't entirely sure whether that was an insult or a compliment. Instead of replying immediately, he climbed out of his pod, stretching his arms and legs and twisting his body a few times to work out the stiffness that came from being stuck in the simulators all day. "You didn't answer my question," he said. "Why Yukigaoka? Even if you were all the way out at Side 7, there must be better academies to choose from. Hell, there's the one at Luna II."

Luna II was home to the headquarters of the Earth Federation Space Force, but since it was on the far side of the Earth from everywhere else, its academy tended to be under-subscribed. As a result, it had a reputation for vacuuming up just about anyone who applied. If Hinata couldn't even get in to Luna II then he must have completely flunked all of his exams or something.

Hinata kicked off from the deck to float in the zero-g, though he kept hold of his pod so he didn't drift out of control. "I had my reasons," he said, closing his eyes and visibly relaxing, letting the tension drain from his body. "And not much choice."

"It's a waste. With better training —"

"Don't say it, Kageyama," he said, sounding tired for the first time. He opened his eyes and fixed him with a stare that sent a shiver down Tobio's spine: cold and expressionless and more than a little creepy. "What matters is that I'm here now and I'm the only one who can keep up with you."

"Keep up with me?" Tobio said, scoffing. "Like hell. You're not even going in the same direction half the time, like just now when you went buzzing off and got yourself killed."

Hinata grimaced, his strange stare vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "Alright, I admit I screwed up there," he said, "but I'm not your subordinate. And I'm not purely a weapon for you to aim, either."

"I'm the combat coordinator," Tobio replied, folding his arms. "It's my job to coordinate, remember? If I think you're best employed as part of my Quickshot tactic, then that's how it is."

" _Your_ Quickshot? Shouldn't that be _our_ Quickshot? I'd like to see you pull it off without me," Hinata said, scowling. "Look. I know you're good at your job. And frankly your aim with the target painters is superhuman. So I trust you to aim for us when we're doing the Quickshot. But that doesn't mean it should be the _only_ thing we do."

"Commander Sawamura said —"

"I know he told us to practise it," Hinata said, swiping impatiently at the air with his free hand. "And we're doing that. That last run wasn't so bad, and maybe we'll figure out how to get it to work every time. But sometimes it won't be enough, like with Nekoma yesterday — they would have beaten us in the end, and you know it. If I hadn't tried talking to Kenma... Trust goes both ways, Kageyama, and sometimes you're going to have to let me do what I think is best."

Tobio shook his head. Hinata was best when he was performing the Quickshot tactic. "There's no point. Nothing else you could do would be as useful."

Hinata rolled his eyes and sighed. "Of all the coordinators in the galaxy, I have to get paired up with you..." His watch bleeped and he glanced at it with relief. "Saved by the bell. I have to go get ready for our night out with Nekoma. Are you sure you're not going to come along?"

Fixing his eyes on the monitors at the far end of the room, Tobio shrugged. "Not interested. I'd rather stay here and come up with some new variations."

"Suit yourself, Grumpyama."

"Don't call me that."

"Okay, Crabbyama."

"Or that."

Hinata just laughed as he drifted through the hatch.

 


	6. Chemical Reaction

Shouyou groaned as he spilt yet more of his drink over his front. He reached over to grab a napkin to mop it up, but put more force into the action than he'd intended and nearly knocked Yamaguchi's glass over too; only Yamaguchi swiftly moving it out of the way saved him from further embarrassment. Even so, a good third of Yamaguchi's beer slopped out onto the tabletop in the process.

"Sorry!" Shouyou said, his cheeks burning as he used his hands to dam up the spill and stop it dribbling off the table. "I'll buy your next one."

"Do you have a drinking problem?" Tsukishima sneered from Yamaguchi's other side. "It's only a little low gravity. How can you not be used to it yet? Were you born on Earth?"

Before Shouyou could snap back, Yamaguchi passed him a napkin and together they began to mop up. "Not everyone is used to lunar gravity like we are, Tsukki," Yamaguchi said mildly. "And even I'm having to be extra careful."

"It's a silly place to build a bar, that's all," Shouyou complained. The Halfway House was — as the name suggested — halfway between the full gravity areas of the colony, situated on the outer circumference of the cylinder, and the zero-gravity spacedock in the centre. Except the name was a lie, since it was nearer the centre than the outer edge and the gravity was more like a third of a g. Maybe that made it a more convenient watering hole for thirsty spacers, but it also meant that if you moved too suddenly, your drink would float right out of its glass. One of the Nekoma guys had claimed it was "all part of the charm" but Shouyou just found it inconvenient. And messy.

It was clearly a common problem, since the floor was sticky with previous mishaps and the whole place smelled faintly of alcohol and cleaning chemicals. It was a pity, since otherwise it would be a decent enough bar: spacious and moodily lit, with a good selection of drinks and some arcade machines in a corner. Two of the walls were holographic displays showing stars and the Earth, as though they were windows out into space, and another was dominated by a giant viewscreen tuned into a muted sports channel. There was even a pool table, though Shouyou didn't dare give it a try for fear of accidentally shooting a pool ball into one of the expensive holographic windows.

With the flood on the tabletop dealt with, resulting in a small pile of sodden napkins sitting on a beer mat, Shouyou stared down at his uniform with a sigh. Kenma silently handed him another napkin so Shouyou began scrubbing at his tunic, face hot. "Did you grow up in low gravity then, Tsukki?" he asked, partly because he was genuinely curious and partly to distract people's attention from his clumsiness. "I thought it was bad for children." Maybe that's why he looked so stretched out, because gravity hadn't pulled him down enough as he grew up.

"Don't call me that," Tsukishima said, pointedly taking a sip of his drink without spilling a drop. "And no, not entirely. We do have spin gravity as well, you know. All children go to school in full gravity."

"Is that what happened to you, Hinata? Did you grow up in really strong gravity, and that's why you're so short?" asked Lev Haiba, one of the Nekoma pilots, leaning across Kenma to peer at him. Kenma shoved him back out of the way in irritation.

"Lev! Don't be rude," Yaku told him, emphasising it with a sharp poke to the shoulder.

Kenma sighed as Lev began making exaggerated groans of pain. "Don't mind Lev," he muttered to Shouyou. "He's got the mental age and manners of a six year old."

Lev was even taller than Tsukishima, all lanky legs and gangly arms. He looked almost like he'd been folded up to fit in his seat, though maybe that was because he was sitting between Yaku and Kenma, who were both on the shorter side too.

"I'm from Side 7," Shouyou told him, looking up from inspecting his tunic; it was as clean as it was likely to get, he figured, and added the damp napkin to the pile. "We have normal gravity there, I guess?"

"Wow! So you're from the opposite side of the Earth to everyone else?" Lev said, his pain suddenly forgotten. "I've never met anyone from Side 7."

"That's probably because there's just a handful of colonies, right?" Yamaguchi said, glancing at Shouyou for confirmation.

"Yup," he said, nodding. "There's only a few million people living there. And it is further away from the rest of the colonies, so not many people come and go unless they have good reason." Like fleeing their homes to escape one war after another, but he didn't want to say that out loud and drag the atmosphere down any further.

Not that the atmosphere was great to begin with. As Shouyou looked around the cluster of tables they'd all occupied, he wasn't so sure Suga's grand plan to bring Karasuno and Nekoma together was working out so well.

Except for both teams' commanders, who were apparently in a meeting, it looked like everyone else had agreed to come along except for Kageyama — though in some cases Shouyou suspected it was only because Suga promised to pay for all the drinks. But for the most part, both teams had taken separate tables on opposite sides of the bar, leaving a wide no man's land between them. Noya, Ennoshita, Tanaka, Narita, and Kinoshita were all at one table together, where Tanaka and Noya kept shooting angry glares at the nearest Nekoma table and Ennoshita kept telling them off. One of the Nekoma pilots, a guy with a blond Mohawk haircut, was glaring right back, and Shouyou imagined that anyone walking between them would be able to feel the heat of the duelling stares.

Suga was doing his best, flitting from table to table and making smalltalk with a smile, but the effect was a little undermined by an obviously uncomfortable Asahi looming over his shoulder. He was probably trying to put on a polite expression, but he wasn't quite managing it and the overall effect was unintentionally intimidating.

Only at Shouyou's table were Karasuno pilots actually sitting with Nekoma pilots, and even there things were awkward. Kenma barely said a word, Yamaguchi seemed nervous, Lev kept putting his foot in his mouth, and Tsukishima offered little more than snide remarks, so Shouyou and Yaku were doing most of the work. And it was hard work: the conversation so far had revolved around polite inquiries about each other's ships and Shouyou's newfound habit of spilling drinks on himself.

They were saved from another long, uncomfortable silence by one of the other Nekoma pilots, who got up from a different table — nearly losing his drink in the process — to join theirs. He had an open, friendly face and wore a cheerful smile, and something about him reminded Shouyou of a playful puppy. "Hi!" he said, sitting down more carefully than he'd stood up. "I'm Sou Inuoka, one of Nekoma's Defender pilots." After the Karasuno pilots had introduced themselves, he fixed his attention on Shouyou and said, "I was really impressed by your shooting yesterday, Hinata! How did you do that thing with the target painting?"

There was a brief pause, Yaku and Kenma visibly tensing up and Yamaguchi wincing; although nobody had said it aloud, the battle was obviously a taboo subject. But Shouyou just smiled back. "There's no trick to it! " he said. "Kageyama — our Conductor pilot — just paints the targets and I shoot them."

"But it was so quick!" Inuoka said. "One moment my alarm sounded and the next you'd got me, sneaking a shot past my I-Field. I didn't even know what had happened at first."

Shouyou shrugged. "Lucky shot maybe?" He could feel everyone's eyes on him, especially Kenma's intense gaze, and he scratched at his ear. "Um. And I've got good reflexes, I guess."

Inuoka grinned. "I thought I did too. Maybe you can teach me how to do it?"

Yaku shook his head. "It relies on the Conductor pilot too, remember." He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and looked to Kenma. "What do you think, Kenma? Could you pull it off?"

Kenma didn't reply at first; his eyes were still staring out from behind his curtain of hair, searching Shouyou's face as if trying to determine whether he was lying. Finally he looked away and made an uncertain noise. "I doubt it," he said quietly. "Certainly not without an awful lot of practice."

"Aww," Inuoka said, his shoulders slumping. "I really wanted to give it a go." He twisted around to glance at one of the other tables. "Maybe Tamahiko will try it with me?"

Lev leaned forwards eagerly. "If anyone's going to learn it, it should be me. I'm an Avenger pilot, after all. Shooting stuff is my job. Yours is to stop people shooting me, Inuoka."

"There's nothing to teach," Shouyou protested, before Inuoka could argue back. "We just... do it. Kageyama lights up the target, like, _shoom_ , and then I go _kablam!_ And then it's _whizz_ to the next one and _shoom kablam!_ It doesn't always work, but when it does, it's really cool."

Tsukishima was staring at him as though he'd turned bright purple and grown horns. "Are we meant to understand any of that?"

"It makes sense to me, Tsukishima!" Shouyou said, folding his arms and pouting.

Tsukishima muttered something under his breath as he took another drink, receiving an elbow in the ribs from Yamaguchi, but Shouyou couldn't make out the words. He was about to say something when Yaku cleared his throat.

"I think there's been enough fighting amongst ourselves recently, don't you?" 

Shouyou blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, Lieutenant."

Another awkward silence fell. Shouyou opened his mouth to try to break it but couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't an insult aimed at Tsukishima.

"Oh!" Lev said, perking up as he peered around the room out of boredom. "Is that a karaoke machine? Why don't we give it a go? Maybe it'll make things less embarrassing."

" _Less_ embarrassing?" Kenma groaned, covering his eyes with one hand.

"For once, Lev, you might actually have had a good idea," Yaku said, getting to his feet. He went over to where Suga was struggling to maintain a one-sided conversation with a pair of quiet Nekoma ensigns. Suga brightened at once when Yaku spoke to him, a broad grin spreading across his face, and together the pair hurried over to the small stage near the big viewscreen to get the karaoke machine set up.

Inuoka bounced in his seat with excitement. "This is going to be hilarious!" he said. "Especially since Yaku can't carry a tune to save his life. But don't tell him I said that — I don't want to lose a limb."

Everyone jumped as loud music blared throughout the room. Noya in fact had jumped right out of his chair and was now standing on it.

"Oh _yes!_ " he yelled. "I am the _best_ at karaoke!" He hopped down and trotted over, then turned to face them all with his arms stretched out in the air and his head flung back, like a rock star basking in the applause of a crowd. "Bring it on!"

"This is your fault, Tadashi," Tsukishima muttered. He looked as bored as ever but there was something very much like fire dancing in his eyes. "If someone tries to make me sing, I can't be held responsible for the consequences."

Yamaguchi paled. "Oh boy." He took a deep breath and downed the rest of his drink in one, then stood up to go buy another.

It was the most fun Shouyou had had in _days_. First Noya and Tanaka gave an energetic performance of a rock number, complete with their own improvised dance routine, then — not to be outdone — Lev and Mohawk Guy fought back with a rap, delivered with more enthusiasm than skill. Yaku horrified everyone with an earnest but terribly out-of-tune pop song, during which Kenma sank so low in his seat that he was barely visible over the table edge, and then Suga healed their wounded ears with a surprisingly sexy rendition of a love ballad, made all the more entertaining by the way he moved around the bar and picked on random victims, dropping to one knee and entreating them to join him with a sultry smile and a wicked twinkle in his eye. Only Tsukishima was immune, radiating an aura so fearsome that even Suga steered clear.

After that it was a free-for-all and things began to blur together as the drinks flowed and the music rang out. Ennoshita was dragged up to the stage by Kinoshita and Narita and together the trio performed a fast-paced song with funny lyrics, most of them delivered in a weary monotone by Ennoshita while his friends pranced around behind him playing air guitars. Fukunaga surprised them all by breakdancing on stage (in one third gravity!) without singing at all, after which Noya and Tanaka insisted on trying something similar and nearly demolished the karaoke machine. Then Inuoka got up and sang, and Kai, and then Suga again with Asahi as a reluctant (but soulful) accompaniment.

"Kenma!" Shouyou said, turning to the other pilot and blinking as the room seemed to keep spinning. "Let's do one! Karasuno and Nekoma together!"

Kenma shrank back, eyes wide and mouth open in horror. "No, no Shouyou, no..."

"C'mon! It'll be fun!" Shouyou grabbed his wrist and tugged him out of his seat, towing him towards the stage. His head swam and the lights dazzled him, but he grinned at the calls of encouragement from his teammates as he scrolled down the list of songs and pointed one out to Kenma. "Do you know this one?"

"I don't know _any_ songs," Kenma said, trying his best to fold in on himself and sink through the floor. He sent a wide-eyed look of panic out towards Yaku, beseeching him for help.

"Don't worry, Kenma! You'll do fine!" Yaku hooted back, giving him a double thumbs up.

Kenma sighed. "Please just kill me now."

"It's an easy one!" Shouyou assured him. "The lyrics just repeat, so you'll get the hang of it quickly." He pressed confirm and the beat of the intro began to thump through the bar, loud enough for the bass to make the stage vibrate. Shouyou tapped his foot to count down to the start, passed the second mic to Kenma, and launched into his song.

Kenma was barely audible, mumbling the lyrics next to him with his head down to hide his bright red face, but Shouyou made up for it in volume, if not in talent. He danced around the stage, bouncing in the low gravity, and threw himself into his performance. After all, there was no point in doing something unless you were going to give it your all, right? Before he knew it the song was over and he was panting on stage, one fist held jubilantly over his head as he let the polite, scattered applause of the audience wash over him, and then he was following Kenma as he shuffled off stage and headed for the darkest corner of the room to hide in.

"That was fun!" Shouyou said breathlessly as they sat down. Kenma, who was face-down on the table with his arms over his head, just let out a long, mortified groan.

Laughing, Shouyou patted him on the back. "Well everyone else liked it at least," he promised. He left Kenma to recover while he grabbed another couple of drinks, slopping a little over his hands thanks to the way the room seemed to sway, and beamed as Inuoka and another young Nekoma pilot named Yuuki Shibayama came to join them.

"That was great, Hinata!" Inuoka said, giving him a high five. "Right, Shibayama?"

"Yes, um, very energetic!" Shibayama agreed. He reached out to poke tentatively at Kenma. "But is Lieutenant Kenma dead?"

He got a pained whine in response, making Inuoka chuckle. "I can't believe you convinced him to get up and sing, Shouyou!" he said. "Commander Kuroo's never going to believe it."

"This must be hell," Kenma muttered, lifting his head up just long enough to shoot Shouyou a baleful glare. "You must have killed me back in the battle and now I'm being punished for all those times I tried to get out of training."

Shouyou threw his head back and laughed, delighted. "But it worked!" he said, pointing to the stage where Tanaka and Mohawk Guy were now singing (or shouting) together. "Karasuno and Nekoma, united at last!"

Kenma opened his eyes to peer up at the stage, blinking slowly as he absorbed the sight of the two pilots chest-bumping in the middle of their song. He sat up, shaking his head with a small smile of wonder. "You seem to have a talent for bringing people together, Shouyou." He reached for his drink and took a big gulp. "But maybe not for singing."

"Wha...?" Shouyou gasped, glaring with indignation that was only half feigned. "In that case, I guess I'll just have to prove my skill with another song!"

"Solo, this time," Kenma said firmly, though he was smiling around his drink. "But I'd rather go get some fresh air. All the caterwauling is giving me a headache."

"Or you just want to sneak off and escape without Yaku noticing," Inuoka said with a knowing grin.

"I don't know," Shibayama said, giving Kenma a sympathetic look. "I think if I'd had to sing in front of everybody, I'd want to cool off with some peace and quiet too."

"Then let's all go!" Shouyou said cheerfully.

 

* * *

 

Which was how they all found themselves in the comparatively cool night air outside, walking side by side down the winding road towards the spaceport. Shouyou was more at peace than he'd been in days, though whether that was just the alcohol or not he wasn't sure. But if two mobile suit teams that had been shooting each other only a day earlier could learn to get along and make fools of themselves together, then perhaps this whole martial law thing would blow over quickly as well and things would go back to normal, right?

The flood of optimism energised him, fizzing up inside like someone shaking a carbonated drink. He laughed for the sheer joy of it, looking up to see the stars overhead, and smiled so much his cheeks began to ache.

"You're in a good mood," Kenma observed, a small grin playing over his lips.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he said cheerfully, twirling on the spot. "Isn't life great?" His nerves sparked with fire, his muscles burned with power. "I want to run," he declared. "Race you to the next corner!"

Only Inuoka followed, the pair of them laughing with glee as they sprinted along the road. Shouyou had a head start, but Inuoka had longer legs and slowly caught up. Putting on an extra burst of speed, Shouyou felt a lightness in his step that had little to do with the low gravity. They were nearly at the corner — he could win, he just had to stay ahead a little longer... He looked behind him, seeing Inuoka just a couple of metres behind, but then his boot caught on something and he went flying.

Jumping back to his feet with scraped palms, Shouyou saw Inuoka crowing with victory right before he skidded into the crash barrier on the corner, unable to slow down in time. Both of them laughed, jogging over to each other to award themselves a double high-five. "I almost beat you!" Shouyou reminded him. "Let's have a rematch."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Kenma said sternly, he and Shibayama having caught up with them. "You almost face-planted on the road and Inuoka nearly ran off the edge of the mountain."

Shouyou wasn't going to let a few bumps and bruises hold him back, but between Shibayama's worried fussing over his grazed hands and the cool air clearing his head, he began to calm down. "Maybe some other time then," he agreed contentedly.

Shibayama turned his attention to Inuoka, checking for injuries. "Honestly, I thought you might have broken something! You need to be more careful in low gravity," he complained. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"It's fine, don't worry!" Inuoka assured him. He smiled brightly and patted the Shibayama on the shoulder reassuringly. "It takes more than a crash barrier or the laws of gravity to stop me!"

"Just as well they did stop you, or you'd be a smear on the ground by now," Kenma pointed out. "Come on, let's get you both to the spaceport before you do anything else crazy."

"Like climbing up to the axis and gliding across the colony?" Shouyou suggested, grinning. "I've done that, you know! Well, not the climbing bit. But the gliding bit! It's fun once you get used to the sensation."

Inuoka laughed like this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "You're pretty awesome, Hinata," he said once he could breathe again. "Is the rest of Karasuno like you?"

"Nah," Shouyou said, shaking his head and putting his arms around the shoulders of both Shibayama and Kenma as he walked between them. "Our Conductor — our _second_ Conductor, the one who does the target painting trick with me — is the grumpiest person you'll ever meet. Even more than Tsukishima. We met when he stole my car."

"He _stole your car?"_ Shibayama whispered, wide-eyed.

"It's okay," Shouyou assured him. "I chased him on a bike and got it back."

Kenma eyed him knowingly. "You just happened to have a bike waiting nearby?"

With an awkward laugh, Shouyou scratched the back of his neck. "It was an emergency! So I, um, kinda borrowed one." He shook his head. " _Anyway_ , Kageyama's the worst. But I bet you'd like Noya and Tanaka — they're a lot of fun. They're the ones who got up to sing first. And everyone else seems nice so far, though I don't know them very well yet."

"You just joined your team, right?" Kenma asked him, though he was hiding his face behind his hair again for some reason.

"About a week ago," Shouyou said. "My timing sucks, I guess. But they say people form closer bonds in times of trouble, right? So maybe we'll all be like family soon." He briefly pulled the Nekoma pilots closer. "And you Nekoma guys too! You can be like, uh, our cousins or something."

"Um, Lieutenant Kenma, should we get him to sit down for a while?" Shibayama whispered, leaning forwards to talk across him with Kenma. "Maybe he bumped his head when he fell."

A very quiet chuckle, almost like a gentle cough, came from Kenma. "I think this is just what Shouyou is like, Shibayama."

Shouyou laughed too. "Maybe I'm a bit tipsy," he admitted. "But I'm in a good mood and things are looking up for a change. So why not be happy while we can?"

"Well said, Hinata!" Inuoka agreed earnestly, before stopping at the edge of the road, taking in the view along the colony. "Wow. What a view."

It was nighttime, which meant the colony's giant mirrors had moved so that instead of reflecting the sun, they reflected the stars. It was rarely totally dark in a space colony unless all the mirrors closed fully and the power went out, so they could still see the colony stretching out before them. From their mountaintop perch, more than halfway to the centre of the cylinder, they could see right down to the far end 32km away. The first time Shouyou had climbed up so high back at Phoenix Colony, it had been disorientating, even making him dizzy — it was like the world had been curled up into a tube and he was staring down through it, and for a moment he was convinced he was about to fall through.

But he'd long since grown used to it, and now he let go of the others to go join Inuoka. Together they stared out at the glittering lights, the rolling green hills, the lakes and rivers and the bridges that spanned them. Shouyou held his hands up, cupping them in front of him until they circled the view; it was like holding an entire tiny world in his fingers.

"We've got to protect this place," he said, swelling with determination as he let his hands drop. "All these innocent people are relying on us to defend them. I don't really understand why this is all happening but I'm not sure it really matters — all I care about is making sure no harm comes to them."

Kenma came to stand next to him, saying nothing. Shouyou glanced at him, noting the way the longitudinal breeze was blowing his hair away from his face, revealing sharp, cat-like eyes that glinted in the starlight.

_Cute!_

"It's a big responsibility," Kenma said quietly, eyes moving to meet Shouyou's.

Shouyou beamed at him. "Nothing we can't handle together," he said, and then he was nearly pitched off the mountainside when Inuoka enthusiastically clapped him on the back in agreement.

"Sorry, Hinata!" Inuoka said, grabbing him before he could fall.

Shibayama swatted Inuoka, tutting. "You're as bad as Lev sometimes!"

Having pulled Shouyou back to the safety of the road, Inuoka puffed up in indignation. "Excuse me, _nobody_ is as bad as Lev."

They set off again, ambling along as the three Nekoma pilots complained about Lev. Shouyou chuckled as they told him about all the (many) times he innocently provoked Lt Yaku by pointing out how short he was.

"It must be intentional," Shibayama said, shaking his head in exasperation. "Nobody can make the same mistake that many times and not learn from it."

"Especially with all the bruises to remind him," Inuoka added with a laugh.

It turned out that Lev was the newest addition to their team, arriving not long before Shouyou had joined the _Karasuno_ , but Inuoka and Shibayama were both relative newcomers too — although they'd been assigned to the _Nekoma_ for some weeks while Shouyou was still awaiting his deployment. Kenma, on the other hand, had been a Nekoma member for nearly two years. He didn't much like talking about himself, though, and instead turned the conversation back to Shouyou, asking him why he decided to join the military.

"There's a few reasons," Shouyou admitted, sobering up as the memories came back to him. He didn't want to burden the others with his life story, or spoil the cheerful mood, so he opted for the story he usually told when people asked him the same question. "But I'd say one of the biggest is Amuro Ray."

The others had heard of him, of course. Shouyou doubted there was a mobile suit pilot who _hadn't_ heard of him: the greatest pilot of the One Year War, the first person to pilot a Gundam, and the man who had saved Earth from the devastation of having yet another asteroid dropped on it three years ago. Nobody knew quite how he'd achieved it, although there were plenty of wild theories, but either way it had apparently cost Amuro his life.

He'd been a hero. He'd certainly been Shouyou's hero.

Kenma was studying him closely, his expression unreadable. "Ray was from Side 7 too, wasn't he?" he said quietly.

Shouyou nodded. "I even met him, Kenma," he said wistfully. "When I was a kid."

"Wait," Shibayama said, awed. "You met Amuro Ray? How?"

"Yes," Shouyou replied, giving him a proud little smile. "I was on the _White Base_ when it evacuated us all from Side 7. I even got to see the Gundam!" He sighed and rolled his neck, remembering; he'd only been six years old, but he would never forget the sight of the giant white mobile suit. He still dreamt about it from time to time, even after all these years, like a ghostly guardian that stood watch over his sleep. "He was so cool. Flying out to protect us all, again and again, even though he was just a boy himself. I always hoped I'd meet Amuro again one day to thank him. Maybe even get to fly alongside him."

"So you became a pilot to meet your hero?" Inuoka said excitedly. "That's so... I dunno, poetic! Like fate or something."

Shouyou laughed, shaking his head. "Meeting him again would have been amazing. But I just wanted to live up to his example. Protect people who need protecting, you know? Like he did."

"That's really noble of you, Hinata," Shibayama said reverently. "I wish you had been able to see him again, even just once."

It hurt, knowing that particular dream would never come true now, but it only made Shouyou more determined. As though somehow the baton had been passed to him, and it was his turn now. He was only alive thanks to Amuro's bravery, so he would do everything in his power to live up to that legacy.

"It's okay," he said, smiling. "It's not like he would have remembered me. I was just a scared, snot-nosed little kid. But I still remember him and all the amazing things he did."

The others were eager to hear the tales, so as they approached the spaceport entrance, Shouyou told them everything. He started at the beginning with whatever he could remember from those terrifying days aboard the Federation's newest battleship, the _White Base,_ pursued by Zeon forces intent on destroying the Gundam (and the rest of them along with it). And after he ran out of his own stories, he told them about everything else he'd learned about his hero. About how Amuro had helped win the One Year War, about his exploits during the Gryps War, right through the two Neo Zeon conflicts.

He was so engrossed in retelling one particular story he'd heard, about how Amuro had outwitted the enemy forces after climbing back into a mobile suit for the first time in years, that he was surprised to find they were now in zero-g. They climbed aboard a transit pod with some dockworkers and got whisked away towards their ships' berths, and by the time they arrived, he'd just about reached the Battle of Axis, three years ago: Amuro's last fight.

"Oh, we're here already?" he said, halting his tale. In truth he was glad of the interruption: as Natsu never failed to remind him, he could go on for hours about Amuro, and he didn't want to bore his new friends. They probably knew most of it already anyway; Amuro was a famous pilot, after all.

They climbed out of the pod and floated along a corridor. It branched into a t-junction at the end, where a broad promenade encircled the main shipyard. It was busy, with lots of shipyard technicians coming and going, and Shouyou wondered if it was a shift change or something.

Both the _Karasuno_ and the _Nekoma_ were visible through the large windows, sister ships sleeping side-by-side. Engineers were flitting about working on them — some sending up sparks from welding torches as they patched up holes, others inspecting or modifying exposed machinery; a few were even touching up the paintwork.

Coming to a stop, they all stared out of the windows and admired the view. "Don't they look so cool together?" he said, the bright optimism he'd felt earlier returning at full strength. Two powerful warships, two crews working together — Shouyou was convinced they'd be unbeatable.

"Excuse us, please," a woman's voice said from behind, and he pulled himself in towards the wall to make room for a group of technicians in red dockyard overalls walking past, guiding a pair of large, squat containers floating in the air.

"Wow! More supplies!" he said, smiling at them. "Miyagi Colony sure is generous."

"Um, yes," one of the techs said — a lanky red-headed guy with a scruffy beard. "We got fuel and food and all sorts in here. Nothing but the best for our brave soldiers!"

"Larsson!" someone else snapped. "Stop yapping. We've got a job to do."

The pilots waited until the crates disappeared safely around the corner, then Shouyou pushed off and floated over to the window, bouncing off it gently with his hands to let the magnetic strips on the soles of his boots make contact with the floor.

"They do look awesome," Inuoka said, as he and Shibayama came to join him. Kenma was floating further back, staring down the promenade in the direction the techs had gone with a puzzled expression. He pulled out his datapad and started tapping away at it.

"Don't mind him," Shibayama said in a conspiratorial whisper. "He's always got his nose in his datapad. I think he's still aware of his surroundings, though sometimes he likes to use it as an excuse to ignore people. Commander Kuroo tells him off but it's just the way he is."

Shouyou smiled. Maybe they'd worn Kenma out — he didn't seem like a very energetic kind of person. Leaving him be, Shouyou turned back to the two warships. "Do you think we'll get to fly together soon?"

Inuoka nodded eagerly. "Hopefully! Maybe we can learn each other's tricks and tactics. Then we'll make an unstoppable team."

"That would be so —" Shouyou began.

"Something's wrong." Kenma had drifted up behind them, still flicking through his datapad with one finger. There was something in his voice that made Shouyou shiver, a note of alarm that cut through his good mood like a beam sabre. Inuoka casually reached up and pulled Kenma down to anchor him to the deck, but Kenma didn't even seem to notice.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Shibayama asked, eyes widening. "Is the colony under attack?"

Kenma shook his head. He looked up from the datapad and pointed down the promenade to the right, in the direction the engineers had gone. "Come on, we need to catch up with those containers." He pushed off, floating more quickly than was usually safe and forcing several passing dockworkers to step out of his way. "Maybe it's nothing. _Hopefully_ it's nothing _._ But we should check just in case."

Shouyou followed, the others right behind him. "I don't understand. What should we check?" Kenma's sudden shift in mood had got his heart racing, and his fingers and toes jittered as though tiny bolts of lightning were coursing along his nerves. "Kenma, what's going on?"

Grabbing onto a nearby handrail to slow his pace, Kenma answered without looking back. "You don't store food and fuel together, at least not if you want to eat the food afterwards," he said. "And those containers were standard military munitions crates anyway."

Kenma took a right at the next junction and then stopped at a crossroads up ahead, looking lost. Shouyou came to a stop beside him, trying not to shiver as a chill ran down his back. "So you think they were lying?"

Kenma shrugged, looking down one corridor and then the next before finally calling up a map on his datapad. "I don't know. But I checked the logs, just in case, and there aren't any shipments scheduled until the morning, not for the _Nekoma_ at least."

Inuoka growled, clenching his fists. "You're right, that doesn't sound right."

"Shouldn't we report it?" Shibayama said, shoulders tense as he chewed on a fingernail. "We don't even know where they went."

"I did report it," Kenma replied, still engrossed in his datapad. Then a sort of squeak escaped him, his eyes shooting wide open. "Oh, crap."

Dread was pooling at the bottom of Shouyou's stomach and now he was really regretting having that last drink. He pressed a hand against his middle, hoping that would help. "You're making me nervous, Kenma."

Kenma lowered his datapad and stared down the corridor straight ahead. He'd turned pale and tiny beads of sweat had broken out on his brow; he looked for all the world like he was staring down the barrel of a particle rifle. "The munitions depot is just a short distance that way."

Shouyou kicked off in that direction before he was even conscious of his legs moving. "Then we've got to stop them!"

"Shouyou, wait —!"

He raced along the corridor, swift enough that he could feel a breeze on his face as he accelerated, grabbing the handrail and pushing himself along faster and faster. Inuoka was right behind him, with Shibayama and Kenma further back, but he lost sight of them as he turned a corner. He had to slow down a little so he could read the signs on the doors as they shot past, but most of them were just alphanumeric designations that meant nothing to him.

"Kenma, where's this depot again?" he called back down the corridor.

"Take the first turning on your right. It's at the end of the corridor." A pause. "But be careful! We don't know what we're getting into."

It didn't really matter. If the munitions depot was full of ammo, an explosion there could probably destroy the entire spacedock. Shouyou glanced back at Inuoka, who nodded grimly.

They had to stop them.

He nearly yanked his arm out of its socket as he grabbed the handrail to whip himself around the next corner, using his legs to cushion the impact against the opposite wall. Up ahead, the thick blast door to the munitions depot was halfway open. Floating beside it was a body, probably a guard; his rifle was drifting nearby, still anchored to its unfortunate owner by a strap, amidst a growing cloud of blood droplets.

Slowing himself down by gripping the handrail loosely, he hit the half-open door with a quiet bump and anchored himself to the deck so he could take a quick peek inside.

Shouyou had been picturing a cavernous, hangar-like warehouse, with a ceiling high overhead and crates full of missiles and ammo; instead, the room was smaller than he was expecting, more like the size of a small sports gymnasium. Half of it was lined with rows of shelves packed with ammo canisters strapped onto them, both human scale and mobile suit sized. The other half was filled with deck-to-ceiling racks containing missiles of various sizes. He recognised some of the smaller rockets as the type that Defenders used for deploying smoke and mines, while some of the larger ones looked like the ones Bombardiers and warships used. The bulkhead walls to the left and right held giant hatches, almost as wide as the room itself, and fire suppression nozzles stuck out of pretty much every available surface to ensure they could cover the entire area.

But his attention was mainly on the container that had been anchored to the floor by the nearest missile rack. Two of the engineers from before, including the red-bearded guy, were leaning over it, deep in discussion, or perhaps argument. Red-beard held a pistol loosely in one hand as he pointed at something inside the container and shook his head. The other engineer was a woman, he thought, but he didn't have a good angle on her; both were facing away from him.

"What do you see?" Inuoka whispered; he was on the opposite side of the gap in the doors from Shouyou and had commandeered the guard's rifle. Kenma and Shibayama were floating up the corridor towards them, though Kenma had his datapad out again and was mostly relying on Shibayama to stop him from drifting out of control.

"Just two bad guys," he whispered back, holding up two fingers. "And one crate. They're looking inside it." He reached out and caught the guard's helmet out of the air, vaguely planning on using it as a weapon. Maybe he could throw it?

"We can take two," Inuoka said confidently.

Shouyou nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He took another glance round the door to double check and —

"Hey!"

Red-beard was almost back at the door, barely more than five paces away. Instinctively, Shouyou flung the helmet at him, hitting the guy in the face and knocking him off the ground. Red-beard fired wildly, perhaps by accident, and the bullet pinged off the wall somewhere above the door.

With a roar, Inuoka rounded the door and charged inside, bringing the rifle up to fire at Red-beard. He missed and then flinched back as a bullet whipped past him — the woman by the container had a gun too.

While Inuoka took cover behind the nearest row of shelves, Shouyou took a deep breath and launched himself from the doorway towards Red-beard, who was lining up on Inuoka even while slowly spinning through the air. Red-beard saw him coming, but in his haste to aim he sent himself into a faster spin and his shot missed. A second later, Shouyou hit the guy like a rocket, outstretched arms slamming into his stomach, and they began grappling and scrapping like they were in a zero-g wrestling match. The pistol went off next to his ear, deafening him, and he grabbed at it, trying to wrench it out of Red-beard's grip before he could fire again. "Let... go!" he growled, jaw clenched, as he tried to peel away Red-beard's sweaty fingers.

Red-beard retaliated with a punch to Shouyou's ear. Most zero-g punches had little weight to them, since there was nothing to use as leverage and you would push yourself away from your target by hitting them, but since they were grappled together, this one _hurt_. It felt like being hit with a sledgehammer, dazing him and nearly shaking him loose, but he managed to hold on.

Shouyou had to get the gun away from the guy as soon as possible, but Red-beard wasn't making it easy. After that ear-ringing blow to the head, both of them were being careful to avoid taking any hits, and although Shouyou was able to keep the gun pointed safely away from himself, he wasn't able to wrest it from Red-beard's grip either.

So as they drifted past a shelf, he kicked out against it, propelling them both towards the rack of missiles opposite. Red-beard had his back to it and took the brunt of the impact, finally dropping his pistol in the process. Shouyou jumped towards it, but Red-beard grabbed his ankle and reeled him back in.

_Alright then_ , Shouyou thought. _Let's play it your way, tough guy._

More gunshots rang out in the background, but Shouyou ignored them in favour of scrambling around Red-beard and wrapping his limbs around the guy's head and torso from behind, clinging on for dear life as he tried to get his arms around Red-beard's neck. At least he'd managed to pin one of Red-beard's arms in place with his legs.

"Shouyou!"

It was difficult to get his bearings while spinning through the air and bouncing off sharp objects, but he caught sight of Kenma standing near the doorway, holding the helmet. Kenma held it up, indicating his intent, then tossed it — with surprising accuracy — towards Shouyou. It almost slipped past his fingers but he managed to catch it by the chin strap. While he tried to keep his face away from Red-beard's attempts to headbutt him, Shouyou started clobbering him with the helmet wherever he could reach.

"Gerroff, you fucking animal!" Red-beard yelled, voice muffled by Shouyou's left arm wrapped around his face. His legs flailed blindly as he tried to shake Shouyou loose, and together they careened back and forth between two missile racks, battering them both. When Red-beard began to slow, Shouyou thought he might have finally subdued him, but then he felt a searing pain in his forearm and screeched in pain.

"You BIT me!" he gasped, appalled, and loosened his grip just enough to smack the man in the face with the helmet, which seemed to stun him. Shouyou almost had the guy under control when a loud evacuation siren began blaring through the depot, making him jump, and Red-beard took advantage of his momentary distraction to whack him in the jaw. Tasting blood in his mouth and wondering if he'd lost a tooth, Shouyou growled and — using both hands — brought the helmet down on Red-beard's head, _hard._ It stunned him long enough for Shouyou to adjust his position and wrap his arms around the man's neck, squeezing it tight, keeping up the pressure until Red-beard was frantically gasping for breath and scrabbling at his arms with his free hand.

Shouyou caught a glimpse of Shibayama floating towards the lost pistol, which had got stuck in one of the racks. Thinking fast, he stretched out with one leg and managed to hook his foot into the engine nozzle of a large missile as they drifted past. Red-beard was still struggling, which made it difficult, but as long as Shouyou could hold on, they were now more or less stationary — and a perfect target for Shibayama.

"Sur-surrender, scumbag!" Shibayama shouted, drifting over to anchor himself sideways against the missile rack with his boots. He held the pistol in both hands, trembling, and Shouyou twisted Red-beard around so he could see (and, just in case, so that Red-beard was between him and Shibayama's unsteady aim).

Finally, the man went limp, the fight draining out of him, though Shouyou didn't let go of his opponent's neck until they were safely anchored to the ground. Almost purple in the face, Red-beard doubled over gasping and didn't resist when Shouyou pushed him back against the missile rack.

"Maybe I squeezed his neck a bit too tight?" he mused, but then he rubbed at the bite in his arm and decided the man deserved it.

"I got this," Shibayama said. His voice was shaky, but judging by the furious look he gave Red-beard as he trained the pistol on him, it was probably anger rather than fear. "If he so much as twitches, I'll blow his head off. Go help the others."

"Gotcha."

There hadn't been any more gunfire recently, but that didn't mean they'd won, so he stayed low and quiet as he crept along the missile rack and peered around the corner. Inuoka was standing near the crate with Kenma, his rifle aimed low at something Shouyou couldn't see. Kenma wasn't looking either; he was preoccupied with the contents of the crate.

Satisfied he wasn't about to get shot, Shouyou came out of cover and hurried over. "Everything okay here?"

Inuoka gave him a cheerful smile over his shoulder. "She won't be giving us any more trouble," he said. Past him, the woman was slumped on the floor, cradling a wounded hand against her body. There was plenty of blood, but she didn't seem seriously hurt; instead she was busy glaring up at Inuoka, like she was imagining the most gruesome ways she could kill him.

It was only then that Shouyou noticed that Inuoka was bleeding too. "Your arm!"

"It's just a scratch," he replied, shrugging. "She nicked me with her second shot."

"Are you alright too, Kenma?" Shouyou asked, turning to inspect his new friend — and then freezing in shock as he saw the contents of the crate.

A bomb.

A _really big_ bomb.

"Uh..." Shouyou had to swallow before he found his voice again, which came out an octave higher than normal. "Please tell me you know how to defuse a bomb, Kenma."

"I don't," Kenma replied tightly as he studied the device. "But I have 94 seconds to figure it out. Well, 93. 92. 91..."

"WHAT?!" Shouyou and Inuoka yelled at the same time.

Kenma peered up at them briefly. "Turns out there's a countdown." He nodded at the woman on the ground, who was now grinning victoriously. "She must have triggered it when we arrived."

Red-beard appeared from behind the missile rack, his hands in the air as Shibayama herded him towards them. "What's going on?" Shibayama asked.

"We're going to explode in about 90 seconds," Inuoka said faintly.

"Keep your eye on the prisoner," Kenma told him sharply, and Inuoka snapped his attention back before the woman could pull anything.

Shouyou's heart was thudding away at least twice as fast as the countdown, but the sensations of his body — the pain in his jaw, the ringing in his ear, the sharp sting from where Red-beard had bitten his arm — were all fading into the background as his eyes latched onto the bomb, unblinking. He was rooted to the spot, his mind blank, as he tried desperately to think up some kind of solution.

Kenma reached out and gingerly tugged at the display panel on the bomb, frowning when it refused to budge.

"Careful!" Shouyou told him anxiously, leaning closer. "Don't set it off early!"

"We have to try _something_ ," Kenma pointed out, tapping the display.

82 seconds. 81. 80.

Now that Shouyou could get a closer look, it seemed mostly low-tech, perhaps home-made. There were four big canisters, strapped together, that were probably the main payload. But on top was an unmistakable bar of plastic explosive, the sort the Army used, and it was connected to the thick black box containing the countdown display by a bundle of wires. There were other components too, like some kind of stubby antenna and a plug on the end of a wire that looked like it matched a socket on the crate's lid.

It was kind of like the sort of stereotypical bomb you saw in movies, the type where the hero cuts the red wire and the counter stops with 0.07 seconds on the clock. Except here all the wires were black.

"What do we do, Kenma?" Shouyou asked, trying to swallow down his mounting panic. He glanced back at the thick steel door, just a few metres away. "Shouldn't we run?"

"If it goes off with all these missiles around, it won't make any difference," Kenma replied. He sounded calm, but when his eyes met Shouyou's, his fear was plain to see in his blown pupils and the way his lips trembled.

70\. 69. 68.

"What about just cutting all the wires?" Shouyou suggested, pointing at them with a shaky finger. "That sometimes works in movies."

"And sometimes it doesn't. Just let me think a minute, Shouyou."

A minute was all they had, but Kenma didn't need reminding. Shouyou took a step back, wracking his brain for anything that could be useful, but for some reason his instructors back at Yukigaoka had failed to include bomb disposal in their curriculum. As he thought, he let his gaze roam absently over the missiles and magazines that filled the depot, waiting patiently to turn a small explosion that would merely tear them apart into a devastating one that would completely obliterate the entire port, until his eyes came to a stop of their own accord.

It took his brain a moment to catch up to what he was seeing.

The bulkheads at either side of the room were giant hatches. One side probably gave access to the dock, allowing the big missiles and other heavy munitions to be easily transferred to and from waiting ships. So what was on the other side?

"Kenma," he said, grabbing his shoulder and pointing at the hatch. "What's behind that hatch?"

Kenma tried to shake him off. "Shouyou, I'm a little busy!" But then he paused, and followed Shouyou's outstretched hand. "Oh..."

44\. 43. 42.

"Please tell me you've just had a genius idea," Inuoka said, his composure rapidly crumbling.

"You're right, Shouyou," Kenma said, checking the map on his datapad again. "It's vacuum. But... if we open it..."

Shouyou knew what he was trying to say. "We're dead either way, right?" he said, a strange stillness filling him. His body felt like the surface of a pond right after a drop had hit it, the ripples gradually fading away. Without another word, he kicked off and drifted towards the far wall, coming to a halt next to the control pad. He tapped at it quickly, overriding the safety protocols and bypassing the air cycling process.

_CAUTION!_

_IF YOU PROCEED, ATMOSPHERE WILL BE VENTED TO VACUUM WITHOUT FURTHER WARNING!_

_ARE YOU SURE?_

_PROCEED / CANCEL_

He looked back. Kenma was arguing with Shibayama and Inuoka and pointing frantically at the blast door leading to the corridor. Shouyou couldn't hear what they were saying; it was like his ears were filled with loud static, pounding in time with his racing pulse.

"Kenma!" he called. "Hurry up! Go!" Now that he'd committed to this course of action, committed to a slow death from asphyxiation in space, he just wanted to get it over with. Before he could chicken out.

Inuoka, Shibayama, and the two prisoners had made it through the blast doors, which began to seal. Meanwhile, Kenma deactivated the magnetic anchor on the crate and started pushing it over towards the hatch.

"What are you doing?!" Shouyou yelled at him. "Go with them!"

Kenma ignored him. "15 seconds!" he said, letting the crate bump up against the hatch and drift towards the centre before moving to thread his arm through the handrail next to Shouyou.

"You're crazy!" Shouyou told him. "Why didn't you go with them?"

Kenma shrugged. "Too late now. Hurry, Shouyou."

Shouyou swallowed hard, choking back tears. _I'm sorry, Natsu. Sorry, Mom._ "Ready?"

Kenma was visibly shaking as he reached out to grab his belt, but he nodded anyway. "The moment it's out, close the doors. We might get lucky."

He took a couple of deep breaths, forced the air out of his lungs to try to stop them rupturing in the vacuum, then pressed the _PROCEED_ button.

At first there was just an almighty roar as the air forced its way between the two halves of the giant hatch, but as the gap widened, it was like a hurricane briefly blasted its way through the munitions depot. The bomb crate got sucked out along with several missiles, and Shouyou nearly followed when he was jerked sideways, losing his grip on the handrail; only Kenma's hold on his belt kept him from being pulled out into space.

A moment of serene silence followed, now that all the air had gone and taken the sound with it.

By then Shouyou's vision was growing cloudy, his ears had popped, and needles stabbed into him all over his body as the cold vacuum bit at him. It took him a couple of attempts to pull himself close enough to the control panel, and even as his consciousness began to fade, he hit the _CLOSE_ button, followed by _RE-PRESSURISE._

And then everything went black.

 


	7. A Completely Unknown Playmaker

When the evacuation alarm sounded, the first stirrings of anxiety began brewing in Tetsurou's stomach.

When he heard that the reason for the evacuation was a bomb in the munitions depot, that anxiety curdled into fear.

And when he heard that _Kenma_ _was in the depot_ , that fear crystallised into a terror that turned his bones to rubber and his blood to ice.

He dashed out of the meeting room, leaving Nekomata and the others stunned, and rushed towards the dockyard. Sawamura followed him, calling out for him to slow down, but Tetsurou was more concerned with what was ahead of him than behind. He could apologise to the others later, once he was sure Kenma was unharmed. But as the constant wail of the evacuation siren tore at his ears, his thoughts spiralled out of control. By the time he'd raced his way to the munitions depot, heedless of officials trying to evacuate the area and having collected a constellation of bruises from careless collisions along the way, he was on the verge of outright panic.

It was his job to protect Kenma. It had _always_ been his job. Bad enough that Kenma had joined the military, even worse that they were now outlaws. If he'd been hurt...

The corridor to the depot was surprisingly crowded. His eyes were first drawn to a corpse floating in a cloud of blood and for a second his lungs simply stopped working, but his brain soon caught up. _Not Kenma_. Only then did he realise Inuoka was there, along with a pair of dockyard technicians in red overalls and handcuffs, a trio of marines, and a medic. But where was Kenma?

As he shot down the corridor, Inuoka saw him coming. "Commander Kuroo!" he said, letting go of his rifle (why did he have a rifle?!) to salute.

The ear-splitting evacuation siren finally cut off with a warbled squawk, but a quieter, more insistent version of it continued sounding inside Tetsurou's skull. "Are you alright?" he asked, seeing Inuoka's bloody sleeve. "Where's Kenma?"

Commander Sawamura anchored himself to the deck with an audible thump. "And Ensign Hinata?" he added calmly. He turned to study the two handcuffed technicians, narrowing his eyes. "And perhaps more importantly, what happened to the bomb? _"_

Tetsurou wanted to grab him by the collar and shake him, wanted to scream "How can you be so calm when I'm falling to pieces?" into his face, but then he noticed how the thick muscles in Sawamura's neck were strung as tight as steel wires, how his jaw was locked firmly into place.

"It's okay, sir, the bomb's gone," Inuoka said. He tried for a confident smile, though it was a bit wobbly. "Kenma and Hinata are both inside with Shibayama. I think they're still unconscious but everyone's in one piece."

Tetsurou knew he ought to stay, to check on Inuoka's arm and listen to his reports, but he got no further than 'unconscious' before he was moving, propriety be damned. He darted past, swinging through the blast doors, and immediately saw Shibayama hovering near a trio of medics. Their focus was on two prone figures — one with bright red hair and the other with dark hair dyed a fading blond.

Kenma.

His face was a bluish-white, corpse-like beneath the oxygen mask. His flesh was grotesquely swollen, the veins and arteries stark beneath the pale skin like they'd been drawn in ink.

Tetsurou hurried over. He choked when he tried to speak, had to cough and clear his throat before he could try again. "Guhler's Syndrome," he said, blurting it out in a rush. They had to know, he had to make sure...  "Kenma — he has Guhler's Syndrome. Sometimes he forgets to take his medication."

One medic glanced up, brushing blonde hair out of her eyes; she wore a Karasuno patch on her sleeve, black crows. For an absurd moment, he wondered at the incongruity of a medic wearing a carrion bird on her arm. "Oh! Um, it's alright sir, we already know — we found his medical tag." She glanced back down and peeked at the readings on a portable biomonitor hooked up to Kenma. "I think we've got things under control, not to worry."

Had there been any gravity, Tetsurou's knees would surely have given way. "How are they?" he croaked.

"The vacuum exposure was brief—" she began.

" _Vacuum exposure?!_ " he yelped.

A circle of what felt like iron clamped around his arm, and Tetsurou looked down to see Sawamura's hand. He looked up, meeting his eyes — stern yet sympathetic — and sighed. "Sorry," he said, turning back to the medic. "Sorry. Carry on."

The medic hesitated a moment, glancing between them, then nodded. "They're both stable. We just need to get them to medbay so we can apply further treatment and monitor them." She gave him a quick, reassuring smile, but after that she returned her attention back to the red-haired pilot. Hinata, he remembered. The one who had spoken to Kenma in the battle.

"But what even happened?" he asked helplessly. "How did —"

Sawamura's grip tightened. "Let's give the medics space to work, Kuroo," he said.

For a second, Tetsurou thought he might throw up with sheer relief, but the wave of nausea passed. He let out a long breath and let his muscles relax, allowing Sawamura to tow him a short distance away. "I thought..."

"I know."

Realising just how inappropriate his mad dash to see his step-brother must have seemed, he reached up to scratch his neck and cleared his throat as he scrambled for some kind of excuse. "Kenma's the linchpin of our team. The brain. Without him —"

"I know," Sawamura interrupted, shooting him an understanding look.

But he didn't know, he _couldn't_ know, it wasn't the _same —_

Shibayama announced his presence with a timid cough and the sound shot through Tetsurou like a bolt of electricity. Tetsurou took in a deep breath, let his shoulders relax, and tried to focus on what was in front of him. "Shibayama. Sorry, I should have asked already. Are you okay?"

The young pilot nodded, though he was white as chalk and was somehow swaying even in zero gravity. "I'm not hurt. It's just, when I saw them..."

Sawamura appraised him thoughtfully. "You were the one to find them?"

Shibayama swallowed hard, pausing to gnaw at a nail before speaking again. "I tried to open the blast doors as soon as I could, but they were so cold and still and barely breathing and I panicked and if only I'd acted faster then maybe —"

"Hey," Sawamura said urgently, reaching for Shibayama's shoulder. "It's okay. Slow down." He gave Tetsurou a pointed look and raised his eyebrows in invitation.

Hot shame boiled up inside Tetsurou as Sawamura's silent reprimand and Shibayama's panic finally penetrated the fog his brain. He was responsible for more people than just Kenma, after all, and without any conscious decision on his part he found himself switching into big brother mode. He stepped closer and gripped Shibayama gently by his upper arms, ducking down so they were on the same level. The poor guy was trembling violently, staring at him with wide eyes full of fear and shame and far too many other emotions that he didn't deserve to be suffering from.

"Shibaya— Yuuki," Tetsurou said, keeping his tone soft and even but insistent, "you did good. You all did good. The danger's passed and the medics say Kenma and Hinata are going to be alright, so no more of that self-recrimination, you hear?"

Shibayama nodded, his head moving in jerky spasms, but his breathing was still far too rapid — quick, shallow breaths, like he was struggling to get enough air into his lungs.

"Hey, just breathe, Yuuki," he said. "Do it with me. Deep breath in... hold it... and out through your mouth, nice and slow. And again.... in, hold it, and out. That's it. Just keep doing that." The controlled breathing probably helped him just as much as it helped Shibayama, his thoughts coming back into focus. He watched as Shibayama obeyed, chest rising and falling, and although he was still shaking and biting his nails, at least he no longer looked like he was in imminent danger of passing out.

Tetsurou sighed. The rookies were barely out of their teens, still just kids really; it was easy to forget that. "Let's go talk to Inuoka too, shall we?" he said.

When they returned to the corridor, only Inuoka and a single marine remained; the others had gone, taking the body with them, though the blood remained. Inuoka was holding his tunic in one hand, leaving him in just his undershirt; his right arm was patched up just below the shoulder. Tetsurou frowned at the sight. He really should have stopped to ask for more details; Sawamura must have thought him to be horribly unprofessional.

"You're hurt," he said. "Shouldn't you be on your way to medbay?"

"I wanted to stay and make sure Kenma and Hinata were okay, sir," Inuoka replied, glancing anxiously through the blast doors. The medics were coming now, carefully manoeuvring two stretchers loaded with their patients.

"We'll take them both to Medbay 1 on the _Karasuno_ if that's okay," the lead medic said. "It's the closest ship."

With a quick glance at Tetsurou, Sawamura nodded. "Go ahead. We'll follow in a moment."

"They'll be alright, won't they?" Shibayama asked, back to pale and shaky again.

The blonde Karasuno medic stopped to reassure him. "I promise," she said. Then, seeing what a state he was in, she took his wrist and led him after the others. "Come on. You better come with us."

More people were coming along the corridor in the opposite direction: some technicians, an official of some sort, and a group of heavily armed troopers wearing Nekoma badges. He returned their salute and raised an eyebrow as they stopped a few paces away.

"We're here to secure the area, sir," the sergeant said. "And these people are from Miyagi Port Authority. They want to check the munitions depot, make sure nothing got damaged in the fight."

"Then by all means, go ahead," Tetsurou replied, gesturing at the hatchway. "We could do without anything more explosive surprises, don't you think?"

Once they'd filed past, he returned his attention to Inuoka. "Now, Inuoka, while we escort you to the medbay, can you please explain what the hell happened here?"

As he filled them in on the details, they made their way towards the _Karasuno,_ with Sawamura leading the way. Neither he nor Sawamura interrupted as Inuoka explained how they'd returned from the Halfway House, heading back to the ships, when Kenma spotted the unusual supply delivery. Neither of them chose to say anything when Inuoka told them about how they'd charged into the depot, guns blazing. And he suspected they were both lost for words when Inuoka finished by explaining just how Kenma and Hinata finally disposed of the bomb.

By then they were aboard the _Karasuno_ and had to share the lift down to the gravity block with a trio of other crewmembers, which hampered further conversation, so in the end nobody spoke until they arrived at the medbay.

Tetsurou spent most of the remaining journey struggling to process everything that Inuoka had told them, snagging particularly on the fact that Kenma had voluntarily spaced himself _._ What had he been _thinking_?! With his condition, it could have... Well, it could have been a lot worse. Added to that was the worry of what had happened to the second crate and what the wider implications were, but all of that faded into the back of his mind as they neared their destination and his worries about his team members came back to the forefront.

The _Karasuno_ 's Medbay 1 was basically the same as the one on the _Nekoma_ , which wasn't surprising as both ships were essentially the same class. Wide double doors led off from the brightly-lit triage area deeper into the facility, where the surgery suite, recovery ward, and various scanners could be found. The triage area itself smelled strongly of antiseptic and consisted mostly of several bays containing diagnostic beds; each could be curtained off for a modicum of privacy, though right then, they were all drawn back.

Shibayama was perched on the edge of a bed with his tunic draped over his shoulders and a cup of something hot steaming away in his shaky hands. Kenma and Hinata were both laid out on beds — still unconscious — with oxygen masks attached to their faces and wires hooking them up to monitors, but there was none of the frenzied activity around them that would signify any urgent problems and the monitors were giving regular, contented beeps.

Spotting them as they entered, one of the nurses came over. "I'll ask a doctor to come give you a report shortly," he said, leading Inuoka away to another bed.

Since they were left to themselves for a minute, Tetsurou turned to Sawamura. "I'm sorry about earlier," he said, unable to meet Sawamura's gaze. "I panicked."

Sawamura studied him closely, then glanced over at Kenma, where a doctor was drawing some blood and a nurse was doing something to his arm. "You two have served together a while?" he asked neutrally.

"You could say that," Tetsurou said. He scratched his neck and gave an awkward little laugh — not much more than a cough. But now was hardly the time for his life story. "I've known him a long time, put it that way."

Thankfully, Sawamura didn't press him for answers; he merely nodded, turning to watch the medics work with his hands clasped behind his back. "It's not easy, being responsible for others."

"No, it's not," Tetsurou agreed. He managed something approximating a smile and folded his arms. "But maybe I need to keep a closer eye on my wayward flock. I've never lost anyone under my command and I don't intend to start now."

"Likewise," Sawamura said. A muscle in his jaw twitched. "I don't know about you, but I would very much like to know who was behind this so I can make my feelings on the matter very clear to them."

The tone was calm and Sawamura's face was almost totally expressionless, but even so, the hairs on the back of Tetsurou's neck stood up.

The same blonde medic from earlier emerged from one of the other rooms and headed over to them, a datapad in her hand. She paused in front of them, hesitating — perhaps intimidated by reporting to two senior officers from two different ships — but Sawamura gave her a polite smile and an encouraging nod and that was enough.

"We're taking good care of everybody, I promise!" she said, speaking quickly. "None of the injuries are critical. Lt Kozume and Ensign Hinata were both briefly exposed to vacuum and will need some close observation for the next 24 hours. Maybe some time in the hyperbaric chamber too, if it comes to that. The good news is that it looks like both remembered not to hold their breath and the exposure was only short, so although all the swelling may look alarming, we expect them both to make a full recovery."

"So they'll definitely be okay?" Sawamura asked.

The medic looked uncomfortable with that. "I hope so," she said. "We'll certainly do our best. They may experience some lingering symptoms for a few days — maybe blurry vision or minor hearing problems — but they should pass." She checked her datapad and added, "Kozume's arm is also fractured, which will take a bit longer to fully heal, but other than a few bumps and bruises, that's the only other injury."

"Wait, wait, wait," Tetsurou said, holding up a hand. "Kenma's _arm_ is broken? How?!"

"I'm not sure," the medic replied, chewing on her lip as she gazed down at the datapad for clues. "Maybe it happened during the explosive decompression somehow, because Ensign Shibayama said he was fine before then."

She glanced at Shibayama and lowered her voice a little. "Speaking of whom, he's in shock, poor thing. He should feel better with a bit of rest and some peace and quiet, though he'll need monitoring just in case he doesn't. He can stay here for now or we can send him back to the _Nekoma_ , but either way it's probably best that someone keeps him company until he's settled down." Gesturing at Inuoka, who was poking at his wound with interest before a nurse scolded him, she added, "And we'll give Ensign Inuoka another once over, but unless he has any other injuries he forgot to mention, he has only the laceration to his arm and some minor contusions — nothing too serious."

Her professional mask slipped then and she let out a short, sharp sigh. "They're lucky boys. It could have been much, much worse."

Tetsurou looked across at Sawamura and saw his expression mirrored back at him: a mixture of relief and incredulity, with just a hint of anger waiting in the wings for its turn in the spotlight. "Thank you, um..."

"Yachi," she replied, saluting. "Hitoka Yachi. I'm a junior medical officer aboard the _Karasuno."_

_"_ Okay, well, thank you, Hitoka Yachi, junior medical officer," Tetsurou said, giving her a genuine smile — one that hopefully concealed all of the churning emotions he was trying desperately to hold inside. "Once you're happy to let them both go, Inuoka and Shibayama can return to the _Nekoma_ together. I'll send Lieutenant Yaku to keep an eye on them until then. In the meantime, would you be so kind as to let us know the moment either of our sleeping beauties wake up?"

"Of course," Yachi nodded, then gave Sawamura a questioning look. "Unless there's anything else, sir?"

"That'll be all. Thanks, Yachi," Sawamura said — sounding perfectly calm, dammit. Like this was just another Tuesday for him. If Tetsurou could stomach the blow to his pride, he would have to ask him for his secret someday.

"I guess we should report in," he said quietly, folding his arms but making no move to depart. His eyes lingered on Kenma's motionless form, watching the slight rise and fall of his chest. In and out, in and out, every breath proof that he was still alive.

Sawamura glanced up at him. "I'll go find out what's going on. You stay here." He grinned and added, "Someone needs to keep an eye on these troublemakers, after all."

Touched at the gesture — and embarrassed at being so transparent — Tetsurou grinned back. "Thanks, Sawamura. I owe you one."

Sawamura touched a finger to his forehead in mock salute and headed out. "You might regret saying that," he called over his shoulder as he left.

 

* * *

 

It had been a _very_ long day.

Hiding a jaw-cracking yawn behind his hand, Daichi blinked sheepishly at the police detective sitting at the steering wheel. Inspector Chan smiled but was gracious enough not to comment; instead she kept her eyes on the road.

The night-time streets were almost empty, the colony's inhabitants long since having gone to bed (much to Daichi's envy), and it lent New Sendai an eerie atmosphere. The shadows seemed to twist and contort as the car's headlights flashed by, and more than once he thought he caught motion out of the corner of his eye. But running as he was on the dregs of coffee and adrenaline, Daichi figured he was simply seeing things. He wouldn't have been too surprised to see a woolly mammoth cross the street up ahead.

But he couldn't let himself sleep until he knew more. Someone had tried to blow up his ship and nearly killed one of his pilots in the attempt, and he was _not_ going to just let that stand, so he'd insisted on being part of the 'military liaison team' that had been set up. Although the police held jurisdiction — that was the whole point of not imposing martial law, after all — Governor Ukai had asked that representatives of the military be included in the investigation. Daichi's head felt like it had been filled with sawdust, so he wasn't sure how much use he was going to be to Inspector Chan, but doing _something_ was better than lying awake fretting about it all. Luckily, she didn't seem too troubled by him tagging along so far; if anything, he seemed to amuse her.

Two uniformed police officers were in the back of the car, and a van packed with forensics technicians and their equipment was following some way back. They were all on their way to investigate the apartment of one of the bombers — the red-bearded man, who Daichi had last seen in an interrogation room being questioned by Commander Takeda and Chan's boss, Superintendent Ota. He hadn't said much, but a simple records check had identified him as a dockworker named Sven Larsson.

A flickering orange glow and the winking blue-white lights of emergency vehicles up ahead suggested it wasn't going to be that simple.

Chan slowed to a stop behind a fire engine blocking the road up ahead. Two ambulances and another fire engine were visible beyond, emergency workers scurrying around as they attempted to extinguish the fire that raged through the apartment building and care for any survivors.

Daichi opened his door and got out, staring up at the flames grimly. The building was five storeys tall, home to maybe a hundred families or so, many of whom were clustered together behind a makeshift perimeter; clad in pyjamas and scraps of hastily-grabbed clothing, they watched in forlorn silence as the firefighters' hoses battled the inferno.

Chan had hurried over to one of the local police officers on the scene; now she came back, shaking her head angrily. "Started about half an hour ago," she told him. "Our suspect's apartment is right in the middle of that blaze, on the bottom floor. The firefighters suspect arson."

"Covering their tracks?" he said, frowning.

"Most likely," she agreed, sighing. "Excuse me a minute."

While Daichi stood by the car, the heat of the flames beating against him, she sent the two additional cops they'd brought along to go help out and ask questions, then reported in on her radio. Daichi couldn't hear what was said over the crackling roar of the fire and the hiss of the hoses, but he could tell by the savage expression on her face that there was more bad news. Rather than compete with the general cacophony, she gestured for him to get in the car.

"It's not just Larsson's place," she said once they'd closed the doors. She switched on the ventilation to try to clear the acrid smell of smoke, but it didn't help much. "Sakamochi's house is on fire too. Not that he'll be returning to it — he died of his injuries a short time ago." She shot him a severe look. "Your soldiers were far too trigger-happy."

Daichi sat back, forcing his exhausted brain to make sense of what he was hearing. "They probably didn't want to take any risks where a bomb was concerned," he replied defensively.

The full picture was far from complete, but the investigators had at least put together a timeline of what happened. After making their way past the young pilots, the attempted bombers had split into two teams. One team had headed straight to the munitions depot, where Hinata and his friends had stopped them. The three remaining bombers had headed for the port's central fuel depot with the second device. Alerted by Kozume's warning, the Port Authority's security guards were able to hold them off until reinforcements arrived from the warships. Two of the attackers had been killed in the ensuing firefight; the third, Sakamochi, had been wounded.

No survivors meant nobody to question, but Daichi knew the soldiers had made the right choice. If they'd been able to detonate the bomb, who knew what might have happened? If just one fuel tank had been ruptured, the resulting explosion could have been devastating. It might even have ripped the entire spacedock apart.

He shook his head and gestured out at the fire with this thumb. "Never mind that now though. This can't be a coincidence, can it?"

"I've been a cop long enough not to believe in coincidences," Chan said, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel as she stared sourly out of the windscreen. "Someone didn't want us looking into this. If there was any evidence to be found here, or at Sakamochi's place, it'll be next to impossible to find any trace of it now."

According to his file, Sakamochi had been a school teacher, Daichi remembered. With a wife — albeit separated — and two children. He frowned and shook his head in disbelief.

"I don't get it," he said, more to himself than to Chan. "Why would they do this? Why would they want to kill us so badly that they're prepared to burn down their homes?"

Chan shrugged. "The ones we caught, you mean? I doubt they did. Maybe they don't even know yet, though I'm sure Ota will try to use it in the interrogation somehow." She reached inside her jacket and pulled out a pack of gum, offering one to him; he shook his head. "But this wasn't some random opportunistic attack, Lieutenant Commander," she went on while chewing. "Two separate teams? Two bombs? Timed to take advantage of a shift change, and with a dockworker greasing the wheels for them? That takes planning. Resources. I'd bet my own house that they weren't working alone, and those accomplices — the ones pulling the strings, maybe — are no doubt trying to cover their tracks."

Daichi slumped back in his seat, briefly closing his eyes. That was a mistake because he didn't want to open them again. He rubbed at his temples, wincing, and wished he'd accepted some gum now. "So what next?"

"The garrison's not on fire, so we may find some leads there," she said. "But we've got teams there already, plus your guy — what was his name?"

That had come as another shock: the revelation that two of the bombers had been soldiers from the garrison. Second Lieutenant Musil and Corporal Horton, both now chilling in the morgue.

"Commander Naoi," he answered, opening his eyes again. Naoi had been sent to make sure the garrison cooperated, rather than close ranks against the police; Daichi hadn't heard of any trouble there, so hopefully they'd be able to find something. "Any news about the fifth bomber, Dumont?" he asked, referring to the woman who'd been at the munitions depot with Larsson. "Any more houses on fire?"

"Not that I was told," Chan replied, shaking her head. "She hasn't said a word, but her ID is almost certainly fake. Her address turned out to belong to an elderly couple, lifelong Miyagi residents, who claim never to have met her, and in any case the techs turned up footage of her arriving at the spaceport about a month ago. No sign of her before then. If it weren't for the arson, I'd suspect she was the mastermind, but unless she planned the fires beforehand, it's unlikely."

" _Could_ these fires have been planned?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Sure, it's possible. But I doubt it. This wasn't meant to be a suicide attack — the bombs both had timers — so why set fire to your home if you plan on returning to it?"

Outside, the fire continued to rage. Daichi glanced at the helpless families, watching their homes burn with expressions of shock and grief, and grimaced. They were supposed to be _protecting_ these people. His heart especially went out to the children amongst them, clutching their parents' hands tightly; they reminded him of his own baby brother and sister.

"What'll happen to them?" he asked, nodding in their direction.

"We're already organising temporary accommodation," Chan said. "They'll be okay." She pointed to the flames. "It's the ones who are still inside that I'm more worried about."

His breath catching in his throat, Daichi swallowed hard. He had the sudden urge to leave as quickly as possible. "Isn't there anything useful we can be doing?" he asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. He did _not_ want to see any more burned corpses.

Chan studied him for a moment, considering, then nodded. "Give me a few minutes."

She climbed out, leaving Daichi alone in the car, staring out at the fire. He couldn't tell if the firefighters were making progress or not; it seemed like an endless stream of watery foam was being sprayed into the building, but the flames continued to dance and thick, black smoke continued to billow out of the windows.

It felt like Chan was only gone for seconds, but when she returned, he jumped at the sound of the car door opening and realised he'd passed the last few minutes in a daze, hypnotised by the fire. Chan started up the car and turned around, leading the forensics van back the way they'd come.

"We're headed back to the spaceport," she explained, shooting him a glance. "We can see if we missed anything earlier and check Larsson's workplace at the same time. Retrace the bombers' steps, maybe, see if they dropped anything."

It was a long shot, and Daichi suspected Chan was humouring him more than anything else, but he was just glad to be away from the fire.

They drove in silence for a few minutes, rejoining one of the main roads leading out of the city. Daichi struggled to get his thoughts in order, trying to put together all of the pieces to form some kind of picture, but there was too much he didn't know.

"Do you have any theories?" he asked Chan. "About who might be behind this, and why?"

Chan paused to spit out her gum into a tissue before replying. "Tough to say," she said, shrugging. "Your warships were certainly the targets, which suggests the culprits could be linked to the protesters we've been dealing with. Plenty of groups aren't happy with you navy boys being here, for all sorts of reasons. On the other hand, that there's garrison soldiers involved means it could be a military thing, loyalists deciding to wage some kind of guerrilla war. You guys are 'rebels', after all. Traitors, in their eyes." She narrowed her eyes and hummed thoughtfully. "Or it could be both. That would be the worst case scenario in my book — the idea that some of the more extreme groups are starting to work together."

That was not a pleasant thought. Was it possible? "I was in a meeting with Governor Ukai earlier. He didn't seem worried about the garrison back then — he said they hadn't caused any trouble since martial law was declared. But he did complain about the protesters."

With a snort of amusement, Chan switched off the ventilation; there was still a lingering smell of smoke, but it wasn't the same nostril-burning stink as before. "Old Ukai has a soft spot for the military. He's ex-navy himself, after all. The garrison caused plenty of trouble before the declaration, one way or another. Besides, the garrison is out of sight and out of mind, whereas he has to drive past the protesters on his way to the office every day. Pro-independence, pro-Federation, anti-Federation, anti-military, you name it. It's no wonder he's focused on them instead."

"I guess," Daichi agreed, stifling another yawn.

Ten minutes later, they arrived at the spaceport terminal building. Daichi took the opportunity to grab a bottle of coffee from a vending machine as they made their way through, showing their IDs several times due to the heightened security. He drank most of it as they rode the elevator up to the zero-g spacedock. "I'm assuming the security holes are all patched, now?" he asked Chan.

She gave him a flat look. "Not my department, but I should certainly hope so." Chan sighed and brushed her short hair with her fingers. "In fairness, the bombs were in munitions crates, escorted by a real dockworker and two genuine soldiers, and I'm sure your ships were rearming after that little fireworks display outside yesterday. It was a perfect opportunity for them."

He nodded. "We got very lucky." If Kozume hadn't become suspicious...

They retraced the bombers' steps, stopping at the same promenade window overlooking the docking bays where the pilots had encountered them. There was nothing to find; even the bored forensic techs trailing them found nothing new, despite waving their high-tech sniffer gadgets around like magic wands. After that, rather than go over the crime scenes again, Chan suggested they investigate Larsson's workplaces. That led to an hour traipsing around the spacedock, checking his work locker, the break room he often used, the workstations he was assigned to, even a few cargo dollies. From this tour they learnt that Larsson liked jam doughnuts, was a messy eater, and liked heavy metal music: not exactly breakthrough material.

"We're wasting our time," Chan groaned, frustration getting the better of her as she kicked one of the cargo dollies and sent it floating away. She'd already been through two more sticks of gum and now went for a third only to find the packet was empty. "Dammit."

Daichi sympathised; the caffeine buzz from earlier had long since worn off, and right then he felt like he could have fallen asleep where he floated. But as his sleepy eyes watched the cargo dolly bounce off the opposite wall with a clang, he frowned thoughtfully. "What about his suit locker?"

"We already checked his locker," Chan snapped. "Did you sleep through it?"

"Not his work locker, his suit locker," Daichi said calmly, turning to face her. "Larsson's a dockworker, right? The docking bays themselves are usually vacuum, and he's bound to need to go out into them at some point. Which means he'll have a vacsuit. Which means another locker somewhere."

The two forensics techs glared at him, probably wishing he'd kept his mouth shut so Chan could dismiss them and send them home for the night, but Chan brightened immediately. "I didn't think of that," she admitted. "Let's go ask."

By then the spacedock shift supervisor was getting increasingly sick of "all these pesky investigators getting underfoot", but she pointed them in the right direction. It took Chan only a moment to override the security on Larsson's locker, which swung open to reveal a worn but well cared for vacsuit. Given the mess in his work locker, Daichi half expected this one to be in a similar state, but it made sense that it wasn't: nobody wanted to risk their lives to a badly maintained space suit.

There was also a datapad.

It was a simple, rugged model, probably issued by the port authority to its workers rather than owned by Larsson personally, so Daichi's hopes weren't high. Chan frowned at the PIN request screen for a moment, then tapped in a few guesses. She got it on her fourth try and grinned at him.

"Idiots make my job so much easier. It was his birth month and day." Poking her way through the menu, her expression fell. "Definitely looks like a work-issued model though."

Daichi watched as she dutifully flicked through its contents anyway while the two grumpy techs checked out the locker and suit. After a couple of minutes, he cleared his throat. "Anything?" he asked hopefully.

Chan started to shake her head before pausing, her eyes narrowed. "Hmm." She came over to stand next to him and angled its screen so he could see. "Check this out."

Daichi had to blink before his eyes could focus on the text, but when he did, he saw what had attracted Chan's attention: Larsson's calendar, apparently synchronised across devices. There were the usual things he'd expect to see: work shifts, job assignments, someone's birthday — and a handful of entries for the past week, usually late at night, labelled only with the word 'Silhouette'.

Daichi glanced down at Chan; she was still focused on the datapad, lost in thought. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"No," she admitted, giving him a quick grin. "But it's a possible lead. If we can figure out where he was at these times, maybe we can find out what he was doing then — and who with." Patting him on the back, she added, "Maybe it was worth you tagging along after all."

"I'm glad to be of service," Daichi said, yawning again. "But I think I've done my part for tonight. Let me know if you find anything else, okay?"

"Will do."

 

* * *

 

The man known only as Silhouette waited patiently beneath a tree on a dark hillside, a kilometre outside of New Sendai. The lights of the city sparkled in front of him, and he could see — even smell — the smoke from the fires rising into the air, collecting in the centre of the colony. The colony's air filters would disperse it in a day or two, but for now it seemed suitably ominous, hovering over the city like a dark, angry thundercloud.

It matched Silhouette's mood.

The datapad in his hands lit up frequently with updates from his associates and the various intercepts he'd been able to establish, feeding him reports on the progress of the police investigation and the movements of the military. They were scurrying about like insects exposed after a stone had been moved, shocked that their insignificant little lives had been so rudely disturbed. So far, they had stuck to their predictable procedures, tightening security at the spaceport and launching an investigation that would take time to become a genuine threat, but the stubborn governor had refused to institute any kind of lockdown or state of emergency. Probably because that might seem too much like the martial law he'd so steadfastly resisted.

So much the better; it gave Silhouette room to manoeuvre and precious time to act.

Also on the datapad was a succinct message from his employer, unwelcome but not unexpected:

_This outcome is regrettable. However, your contract is clear: there are to be no loose ends._

_You have two more weeks._

Genevieve had often speculated as to the identity of their mysterious employer, but Silhouette knew better than to ask questions. Especially questions about people who obviously valued their privacy and had significant resources at their disposal. After all, if they could afford to hire half the black market operatives in the Earth sphere, they could afford to hire assassins too, and Silhouette had a healthy respect for many of his competitors.

Besides, he was a professional. He advertised 'no questions asked' and he meant it. He didn't need to know who or why, only what the job was, and as long as he was paid, he would do that job properly.

Although he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious this time. This wasn't like most of the work he'd done, and his was a varied profession. Usually, even without having to ask questions, it was easy to infer the intention behind his instructions; profit was the most common motivation, one way or another. Sabotaging a competitor, stealing from them, even killing them — all par for the course. Sometimes he was hired to settle grudges, or to ensure a smooth rise to power by removing a rival. He'd even rigged an election before.

But this time? He could see no profit. No logic at all, in fact. If anything, it was most like his experiences back in the One Year War, when special ops forces were sent into enemy territory to do as much damage as they could by any means available. It was almost as though the chaos was the objective here, rather than the means to an end, but he wasn't so naive as to believe that. There was no doubt a plan; he just didn't have all the pieces to put it together.

Regardless, he still had his own role to play in whatever drama was unfolding, and his contact was late.

The fact that _both_ bombs had been intercepted had necessitated a certain amount of improvisation. He had contingency plans in place for such eventualities, of course, but he hadn't expected to have to activate them. It irked him that the operation had apparently been foiled due to a stroke of bad luck — a random encounter in the spacedock, if the reports were accurate — but it irritated him even more that he was having to clean up the mess himself. It was a level of exposure he was unused to these days.

'Cleaning' was normally Genevieve's job. She liked being hands-on and she was good at it; someday she would have probably surpassed his own skills in that area. And in return that left Silhouette more time to deal with the more... subtle parts of the job. Like persuading people to stage an uprising or inciting them to bomb a pair of warships. They made a good team and, in his own way, he'd come to rely on Genevieve for both her expertise and her company.

So what the hell had she been thinking?! Why hadn't she detonated the bomb the moment she was discovered?

Maybe he'd misjudged her. She'd never been plagued by sentimentality or squeamishness, but she'd always had a penchant for the dramatic. Perhaps she'd set a short countdown just to savour the fear and despair in the eyes of her enemies.

Well, he would never know now. And whatever the reason, it was a foolish mistake. One that he would have to rectify.

Finally, nearly fifteen minutes late, he saw a pair of headlights approach and come to a halt on the road below. Shortly thereafter, they winked out and a figure climbed up the hill towards him. Silhouette observed carefully for a minute, using his nightvision goggles to ensure there were no unexpected guests, and then emerged from the tree line to meet his contact.

"Were there any complications?" he asked, coming to a halt five metres away; in his jacket pocket, his finger settled against the trigger of his pistol.

Just in case.

"No," the sergeant replied, placing a long, cumbersome-looking package on the ground and then stepping back. She stared at him with open curiosity. "Are you sure you know how to use this?"

"I'm sure," he said, crouching down to open the heavy case and check the contents. He nodded in satisfaction and rose to his feet again. "Rest assured, your comrades will be avenged."

She made no move to leave. "I don't know why Silhouette is pussyfooting around. There's a lot more hardware where this came from. If he gave the word, I bet we could take down those fucking traitors in one go."

Silhouette smiled to himself. "I'll pass on your suggestion."

"You know him?" the sergeant demanded, folding her arms.

He shook his head. "Nobody does, I think. He likes to operate from behind the scenes." He hoisted the package up and slung it over his shoulder; it was heavy, but nothing unmanageable.

The soldier seemed in no mood to leave; she'd turned, glancing back at New Sendai, and shifted from foot to foot. "Need a lift?"

"I'm good, thank you," he said firmly. Then, when she still failed to move: "I'm sure Silhouette will be in contact again before long with new instructions. But for now you better get back. It would be awkward if someone were to notice your absence."

Finally, she nodded. "Should be okay — I've got people covering for me — but those dogs from the navy are sniffing about. Better not take any chances." With one last look at the package on his shoulder, she gave a fierce grin, baring her teeth. "Give 'em hell."

"Oh, I intend to," he said, waiting until she began walking down the hill before turning his back on her and returning to the trees.

He wondered whether she would be more of a liability than an asset, but having access to the garrison's armoury was a useful advantage. Besides, his hastily constructed network of dissidents and malcontents was not so large that he could afford to discard them carelessly. She'd seen him in person, of course, but he wasn't worried; it was dark and it wasn't even his real face. Today he was an unremarkable businessman of 45, and tomorrow he'd be someone new. An elderly retiree, perhaps. Maybe even a woman. He had plenty of masks left.

The colony's mirrors were starting their slow tilt back towards the sun, and as he climbed into the vehicle he'd hidden in some bushes off the road, the first rays of dawn were beginning to pierce the giant windows overhead. He had hoped to be done by now, but his final task for the day wouldn't take long.

He set off on the short drive back into the city, reflecting on the future. His plans would need to change, but this need not be a major setback. It might even prove helpful. Certainly, had the bombs gone off, it was likely that the people of Miyagi would have turned decisively against their recalcitrant governor. They would have blamed his decision to refuse martial law and harbour two fugitive warships for bringing death and violence to their quiet little colony. But even though Governor Ukai might experience a short-term boost from having foiled the attack, it would only make his position even more difficult in the long run. Unable to locate the real culprits and under pressure to introduce new security measures to ensure public safety — i.e., martial law in all but name — yes, that could work. Democracy was a lot more fragile than people thought.

Miyagi would become a pressure cooker, and by the time his two week deadline was up, the colony would be boiling over and ready to burst.

The only genuinely unpredictable factor was the presence of the two warships. How would they react to being attacked? They'd been too tempting a target to pass up, which was why he'd allowed Genevieve to go ahead with her plan, but now they would be on guard. He'd have to take that into account in future operations. Perhaps he could keep them from interfering by somehow forcing Ukai to keep them on a short leash.

Silhouette pulled up at a traffic light, waiting for it to turn green. The dark streets were quiet and still, but there was an uneasiness in the atmosphere. Lights shone behind closed blinds and drawn curtains and he wondered just how many people were awake, glued to their viewscreens or datapads, alarmed by the news of the attempted bombing and subsequent fires.

They'd soon have something else to worry about.

The light turned green and he accelerated smoothly away, being careful to stay under the speed limit and avoid attracting any attention. It wouldn't do to get pulled over by the police with a rocket launcher on the seat next to him.

New Sendai Central Police Station was a drab concrete monstrosity. On the whole, Miyagi's anachronistic architecture was relatively pleasing, but the police station was nothing but an eyesore. Really, he was doing the public a favour. It lay up ahead at the end of the road, squat and infuriatingly asymmetrical, like a bloated, disfigured toad. The large doors to its underground car park were open and all that was missing to complete the picture was a slimy tongue rolling out of it.

The plans he'd studied on his datapad earlier showed the cells were on the ground floor on the west side, above the car park and adjoining an exterior wall. The rocket he'd obtained from the garrison soldier was designed to penetrate and destroy a mobile suit, so he had no concern about its ability to demolish the concrete walls of the station, but there had already been enough mistakes; he could afford an extra minute or two to set up a direct hit. He took the time to circle around to the west side of the building, pulling in some distance down a side road — maybe fifty metres away. The distance would also make it harder for the cameras that watched every approach to the station to get a good look at him.

And then, without switching off the ignition, he got out of the car, pulled out the rocket launcher, and took aim.

"Farewell, my sweet Genevieve," he said, and pulled the trigger.

 


	8. Moving like Normal

When Tetsurou finally crawled into bed, having spent much of the night watching over Kenma in the _Karasuno_ 's medical bay, he'd hoped things would make sense in the morning.

Instead, the light of dawn brought only further headaches.

A message from the bridge woke him after less than an hour. The news of another attack — this time on the city's police HQ — hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water to the face.

Nekomata and Captain Ukai were taking no chances, worried that the series of attacks could be a prelude to something bigger, and had put both ships on high alert. It was possible the internal attacks were merely a diversion, designed to distract them from an imminent attack from outside the colony. That meant a pair of mobile suits flying constant patrols outside, covering technicians as they worked to extend the hastily laid sensor buoy perimeter around the colony, plus another pair of mobile suits on immediate standby at all times. Sawamura's team took the first shift, since Tetsurou was down three pilots, but after that it was Nekoma's turn to take up the slack.

They grumbled about it, of course — patrols were boring — but he knew their frustration stemmed more from anger at themselves, anger that someone had tried to strike at them and nearly succeeded. Anger that four of their own had been hurt, not to mention a police station full of cops just trying to do their jobs. It was all he could do to rein in the more hot-headed members of his team from forming a posse and going hunting inside the colony.

Tetsurou took the next patrol himself with Teshiro, attempting to set a good example, but he spent more of the patrol fretting than being an effective sentry. By the time he returned to the colony, he'd been stewing in his own worries for two hours and was wound up tight as a spring.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling that their troubles were only just beginning.

There was some good news — Inuoka and Shibayama had been discharged from medbay while he was out on patrol, and both Kenma and Hinata were awake and conscious again — but he'd have to visit them later. His next stop was a meeting with his superiors at Governor House, the fancy building in the centre of New Sendai from which Ukai ran the colony. After a quick shower to freshen up, Tetsurou made his way into the city, grabbing a coffee to drink along the way and help keep him awake.

After navigating his way through several layers of security, Tetsurou was shown to a rather grand room deep in the building. A chandelier hung from the ornate ceiling and portraits of important-looking people decked the walls — past governors, maybe. But it was the large, hi-tech table that dominated the room, featuring built-in computer interfaces at every seat. In the centre sat a crystal jug filled with water, along with a collection of matching glasses.

At least Tetsurou wasn't the last to arrive. Nekomata, Naoi, Takeda, and Sawamura were already present, but a couple of minutes later, the sound of bickering heralded the arrival of both Ukais.

"Good, you're all here," Governor Ukai said as he took his seat at the head of the table. "Let's get on with it then." Tetsurou was glad he was sat at the other end, nearer Nekomata; judging by the way the governor's tightly clenched fists were pressing into the tabletop, not to mention the tremble of anger in his voice, he was a volcano on the verge of eruption. A stressful, sleepless night obviously hadn't helped his naturally grumpy disposition either.

Commander Takeda opened the briefing, having spent most of the night coordinating the military involvement in the investigation. He'd been extraordinarily lucky: had he stayed at the police station half an hour longer, he would have been caught in the explosion. Now his face was a grim mask, with deep shadows under his eyes, as he related everything he'd been able to find out about the second attack.

"They used some kind of rocket," he said. "Almost certainly military in origin, though we won't know for sure unless we can recover any fragments from the wreckage. The attacker didn't get too close — so no clear images from any security footage — and fled the scene immediately afterwards. The police traced the vehicle's route out of the city using traffic cameras, but it was already on fire by the time they caught up to it."

A massive viewscreen on the wall at the foot of the table cycled through the gruesome scenes — the twisted, charred remains of a car in a wooded valley outside New Sendai, as well as the damaged central police station. The only good news in the entire fiasco was that casualties had been fairly light, since most of the police on duty at such an early hour were out investigating the attempted bombing.

"The primary target of the attack appears to have been the two prisoners," Takeda continued. "The point of impact was directly outside the holding cells. Both were killed instantly in the ensuing explosion."

Tetsurou lounged back in the seat, his legs stretched out under the table. The lights were too bright and his eyes were scratchy and tired, but despite the (very) long day yesterday, sleep was the last thing on his mind. "Someone didn't want them talking," he said, voicing the unwelcome but obvious conclusion.

Takeda nodded. "That is my conclusion as well. There is a slim possibility that the two surviving bombers were killed by one of our own out of some misguided sense of vengeance, but when taken together with the various arson attacks on the bombers' homes, it is much more likely that the people behind all of this have been working very hard to erase their tracks."

Everyone fell silent as the implications set in. They were soldiers; combat was no stranger to them. But this sense of someone lurking in the shadows, striking at them with apparent impunity, left Tetsurou feeling more vulnerable and out of control than he'd felt in years. And judging by the grim expressions of the others, he wasn't the only one.

A group had tried to kill them. Would have succeeded if not for Kenma and a heavy helping of luck. And at least one of them was _still out there_.

"What _do_ we know?" Nekomata asked. The wily smile he usually wore was absent now, though outwardly he remained much calmer than either of the Ukais. Tetsurou could almost feel the heat of their fury beating against the side of his face, radiating from their end of the table like it was on fire.

"Not as much as we would like," Takeda answered, giving a helpless shrug. "Neither prisoner revealed anything useful during the initial interrogation. Indeed, they barely said a word. I had hoped the news of his home burning down would loosen Larsson's tongue — he appeared badly shaken when we told him — but Superintendent Ota..." He faltered for a moment, clearing his throat before continuing. "We decided to let him chew on it overnight, and obviously it's too late now."

"Ota was a good man," Governor Ukai said heavily, his eyes glued to the gallery of shocking images repeating on the viewscreen. "Tenacious son of a bitch. He would have dragged the truth out of them eventually, given the chance."

"We must know something, surely?" his grandson demanded. "It's not like whoever's behind this could erase every single trace."

Takeda adjusted his glasses and checked his datapad, flicking through the contents with a finger. "We do have some leads, yes. For example, one of the bombs was recovered intact and is being studied by both the police and our own demolitions experts. Although the bulk of the payload consists of home-made explosives, the detonator is military in origin — probably from the garrison — and the remaining components, such as the timer, are custom-made. The police are checking up on anyone they know of who might have that capability; if they shake enough trees, something may fall out. And Commander Naoi has ordered a full inventory of the garrison's armoury."

Naoi grunted and leaned forwards. "I've got a team from the _Nekoma_ doing it, just in case. If some of the garrison troops are crooked, we can't trust them to do the job. And if it turns out that the detonators — and maybe the rocket launcher used to attack the police station — really did come from the armoury, we can look at who had access and figure out who might have smuggled the weapons out."

"Good luck with that," Governor Ukai snorted. "They'll have covered their tracks, I'm sure. And the rest of the garrison won't appreciate being put under suspicion either."

"Which is why we should disband them, like I told you," Captain Ukai said, folding his arms and fixing his grandfather with a sharp look. "Send the troops home then empty the armoury and store it aboard our ships. We can't afford any more weapons falling into the wrong hands."

The Governor glared back. "And I already said no!"

" _They tried to blow up my ship!"_ Ukai yelled, slamming the table with his fist. Tetsurou nearly jumped out of his chair.

After a few seconds of shocked silence at his outburst, Nekomata cleared his throat and reached over to pour himself some water. "And mine," he said mildly. "But maybe we should be sure of who our enemy is before we go on the offensive, don't you think, Keishin? Unless you're having second thoughts about martial law?"

Captain Ukai sat back, cursing under his breath before vigorously running a hand through his hair. "No, no, you're right. As usual, dammit." He blew out a sharp breath and nodded at Takeda. "Sorry. Go on, Ittetsu."

Takeda watched him for a couple of seconds, as though making sure no further eruptions were about to occur, then checked his datapad. "There is another promising lead," he said. "Sawamura and the police managed to find Larsson's calendar. Sawamura?"

Momentarily taken aback at being addressed, it took Sawamura a few seconds to gather his thoughts. "It featured a strange series of entries labelled only 'Silhouette'," he explained. "Usually in the evening or late at night. We don't know what the name means, exactly, but the police have been able to trace back his movements at many of those points in time to a small warehouse near the spaceport. It's been cleared out but Inspector Chan suspects it's where the bombs were constructed. Now she's cross-referencing with the movements of the other bombers and working to see who else was in the area at those times." He shrugged. "Maybe it'll lead us to whoever else is involved."

"Thank you, Sawamura," Takeda said, giving him a nod. "It is also possible that the police will be able to discover something through their usual lines of investigation — interviewing witnesses, talking to the associates of the bombers, checking surveillance footage, digging through electronic records, and so on. It will take time, of course, but we might strike lucky."

And the police were well-motivated now, Tetsurou reflected grimly, but his black humour quickly evaporated. He poured himself some water too, hoping it would settle the queasy sensation in his stomach.

Takeda looked up from his datapad and stared gravely around the table. "There is one thing in particular that deeply concerns me, however."

Nekomata sighed. "The woman."

"Just so." Takeda pressed some controls on the table and the big viewscreen on the wall went momentarily black before displaying photos of all five bombers. A summary of known details about each one was shown below their corresponding picture. Four of them had plenty: names, dates of birth, addresses, jobs, and so forth.

Beneath the first picture, the woman, there was nothing but a name: Armelle Dumont. And even that had a question mark after it.

She was nondescript, average. Brown hair, brown eyes, light skin but not unusually pale; no distinguishing marks, nothing. Nothing about her would have made Tetsurou look twice if he'd seen her on the street. It made him even more impressed that Kenma had realised something was wrong, but then he always did have a suspicious mind.

"The police have confirmed many of her details to be fake," Takeda said. "Her registered address, her employment details... essentially everything Miyagi Colony has on file about her. We don't even know if Armelle Dumont was her real name. The only thing we know for sure is that she arrived at Miyagi 26 days ago on a passenger transport — supposedly to take up a post at the shipyard here — and then promptly disappeared. That in itself is troubling enough, but what worse is that her fake identity is present across multiple databases."

"I don't follow," Sawamura said. He looked like he'd recently risen from the dead, haggard and exhausted. Tetsurou had heard he'd flown one of the patrols too, despite being up nearly the whole night working with the police.

Takeda gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's not unheard of for the Earth Federation's central database of all citizens to be compromised; all it takes is the right knowhow or a bribe to the right administrator. But our mysterious Ms Dumont appears in other databases too. Her qualifications, for instance, appear in the records of the relevant schools and universities. Her profession is listed as a safety inspector, and her name even appears as such in the database of certified inspectors." He pushed his glasses up his nose and took a sip of water. "In other words, if you ask any computer, Armelle Dumont appears to be a real person. But if you ask the people living at her residence here on Miyagi, or her co-workers at the company she claimed to work for, none of them have ever heard of her."

His gaze sharpened as he stared up at her portrait on the viewscreen. "To me, this suggests one of two possibilities, both equally disturbing: either she was able to co-opt and amend the identity of an existing citizen, or she was able to create a brand new identity across multiple databases."

"So is there a real Dumont out there wondering why all of a sudden everyone thinks she lives on Miyagi?" Captain Ukai asked. "That would solve the riddle, right?"

"It's impossible to say," Takeda said, his shoulders slumping. "Given the level of influence we're talking about, it's entirely possible that the real Armelle Dumont — if there is one — is dead. It would be the easiest way to avoid having the same person being apparently present in two places at once."

Tetsurou realised his fingers were rapping the tabletop unconsciously, so he crossed his arms to stop them. "Sorry, Commander," he said, "I just want to make sure I understand: are you implying there's some kind of wider conspiracy here?"

Takeda's solemn expression could have been carved from granite. "I am, yes."

Governor Ukai groaned. "This just gets better and better."

Commander Naoi cleared his throat. "Let's not be too hasty," he said, after giving Ukai a wary glance. "Clearly this was designed as an attack on the military. On us. We know that two of the bombers were soldiers from the garrison; maybe the one who attacked the police station was a soldier too, given that they knew how to use a rocket launcher. And from the police reports I've read, it sounds like Larsson and the other civilian bomber, Sakamochi, were Loyalist sympathisers: both were spotted in protests against the Governor's stance on martial law. In their eyes, we're rebels — traitors. To me, it sounds more like a group of disgruntled Loyalists decided to take matters into their own hands. Worrying, but not unforeseeable." He pressed his hands flat against the table and frowned. "So where does a conspiracy fit into it? Aren't we over-thinking things here, given that there's a more straightforward explanation?"

Tetsurou rubbed at his eyes, sighing. He wasn't sure that theory was any more reassuring. If they had traitors in their midst, finding them would be a nightmare. But as Nekomata had pointed out earlier, the whole point of resisting martial law was to avoid having to act as an occupying army, so it's not like they could pre-emptively arrest everyone with loyalist leanings just in case.

"That is certainly possible, and should not be ruled out," Takeda conceded. "But the fact remains: the first time this woman had been seen since arriving on Miyagi four weeks ago was when she tried to bomb us. She was no simple safety inspector — a cover story which would give her ready access to many sensitive locations, I might add."

"But if she was some sort of saboteur," Captain Ukai said, visibly confused, "how could she have been sent to blow us up before we even arrived?"

A terrible thought struck Tetsurou as he turned Ukai's question over in his mind. "She couldn't have been," he said aloud. "Which means she wasn't sent here for us." He turned to face the elder Ukai, sitting at the head of the table. "Governor, did anything happen here in the run up to martial law? Any unusual trouble?"

Governor Ukai scowled and shrugged. "Plenty of trouble, but nothing unusual compared to anywhere else. Protests, rioting, vandalism and so on. A few fights between civilians and off-duty soldiers, even a few deaths, including an accidental shooting when some of the soldiers panicked. The police handled it, as they should."

"What are you thinking, Kuroo?" Nekomata asked him, eyes narrowed.

"I was just wondering what else that woman might have been up to all this time, if Takeda's theory is correct." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "What if not all of the unrest was spontaneous? What if it was being stirred up?"

Sawamura rubbed his chin. "It's a shame we can no longer ask her."

"I imagine that's no coincidence," Nekomata said heavily.

Captain Ukai rapped on the table with his knuckles. "I'm not liking where this is going," he said, "but we need to be careful not to get sidetracked. I'd love to catch the bastards who are behind all this, but our other problems haven't suddenly disappeared; we shouldn't lose sight of the bigger picture." With a nod at Takeda, he said, "Keep investigating by all means, and we need to tighten security in case they try again — mixing in some of our own people, if we can't trust the locals — but as far as the _Karasuno_ and _Nekoma_ are concerned, our main focus has to be external, not internal. The Loyalists are still ultimately the bigger threat. Once they know we're here, they're bound to send a force to deal with us eventually." He sat back and folded his arms with an angry huff. "Hell, they might _already_ know."

Commodore Nekomata sighed, looking every bit his age. He'd survived every major conflict of the past 20 years, from the carnage of the One Year War onward; he could have retired by now and nobody would have begrudged him it after serving so long, but Tetsurou had never been so glad to have his wisdom and experience at hand.

"Young Keishin is right," he agreed. "It's only a matter of time."

The meeting broke up shortly after that, having decided that the Governor's people would handle the investigation while the two warships focused on defending the colony from a possible Loyalist attack. They made what plans they could, but there were too many variables to be confident of anything. So much depended on when the Loyalists would come and how many they would send, as well as whether or not other sympathetic vessels would come to Miyagi's aid. In the meantime, all they could do was prepare: increase security, make repairs, ready their defences, and train hard.

Since Captain Ukai, Takeda, and Sawamura were heading back to the _Karasuno_ anyway, Tetsurou fell in beside Sawamura, intending to go visit Kenma. The two senior offers were up ahead, talking amongst themselves.

"Your Takeda seems to be a sharp guy," Tetsurou commented. "Though I hope he's wrong."

"Takeda spent some time as an analyst in military intelligence," Sawamura said quietly. "He's very persistent when it comes to digging up information." A small smile crept across his lips. "Or when it comes to getting his own way."

So much for the chances of him being wrong then. Tetsurou had a very bad feeling about it all, like a poisonous seed had taken root deep in his gut and was slowly growing there.

They rode the lift up to the spacedock in silence, each alone with their thoughts. There was a lot to worry about, but in a way Captain Ukai had simplified things: they had to focus on the threat from outside, rather than from within. After all, they were mobile suit pilots, not detectives; they weren't going to be much help investigating crimes. Their job was to fight the bad guys and stop them from seizing the colony.

Of course, that brought its own set of problems...

"I didn't want to bring this up in front of our bosses," Tetsurou said as they passed through a quiet section of corridor. "But how do you think your guys will react in a real fight against the Loyalists? It's one thing to pull your punches if your opponent is doing the same, but if they're shooting to kill, we're going to have to do the same to stand a chance."

Sawamura's jaw tightened and he shook his head. "I don't know. For that matter, I don't even know how _I'm_ going to react yet." He scratched at his scalp and sighed. "Four of my pilots have been with us less than a month. Five more have never been in a serious fight. But I don't think any of us are ready for what lies ahead."

Tetsurou gripped the handrail, slowing himself to a stop. The _Karasuno_ was visible through the promenade window, shipwrights working to complete its refit as best they could, and Ukai and Takeda were out of sight around the next corner. Sawamura halted as well, shooting a questioning glance back over his shoulder.

A few years ago, when Tetsurou had been a wet-behind-the-ears rookie just like Lev or Hinata, he'd been caught up in the last major conflict to hit the Earth Sphere. Only on the fringes, not where the fighting had been hottest, but it had been terrifying all the same. Exhilarating in its own way, sure, but mostly terrifying. Yet he'd fought anyway, because the stakes were so high. To have failed would have meant the deaths of millions — even _billions_ — of people on Earth, so he'd launched in his mobile suit planning to give it his all.

But once the firing started, and particle blasts were lancing out towards him... Those noble thoughts were the first casualties of battle. His focus narrowed down to just him and his opponent, struggling to shoot them before they shot him.

"Survival is an awfully effective motivator," he said, making a fist and studying it closely — the lines of his tendons standing out, the whiteness of his knuckles, the path of the veins on the back on his hand. It seemed so strong, thrumming with energy, with life. "But..."

He was confident in his own strength, in his own abilities. One on one against an average opponent, Tetsurou was sure he could win. But he wasn't fighting one-on-one anymore — he had a whole team around him. And the near-miss with Kenma, plus the scrap with Karasuno earlier, had been a shock to the system. He couldn't afford to focus only on himself in the next battle; he had eleven others to look after too, not to mention a whole colony of innocent people to protect. It was his responsibility to keep them all alive.

Sawamura didn't say anything; he didn't have to. The grim look in his eyes told Tetsurou that he understood.

"But practice helps too," Tetsurou said instead, forcing a smirk onto his face. "So don't think we're going to go easy on you in training."

"I'd be offended if you did," Sawamura replied, returning his grin before pushing off down the corridor again.

Sawamura ended up accompanying him to medbay as well, thinking of checking in on Hinata, but it turned out that they weren't the only visitors. In fact, when the hatch to the recovery ward first opened to reveal shouting and a Karasuno pilot rolling across the floor, Tetsurou's first thought was that a fight had broken out.

"Hey now—!" he began, at the same time as Sawamura yelled a deafening "Oi!"

The Karasuno pilot — a short guy with wild hair and even wilder eyes — jumped to his feet in a smooth motion, though even then he seemed incapable of standing still. He reminded Tetsurou of a hyperactive hedgehog. "Sorry, Daichi!" he chirped, grinning. "We were just practising our moves in case we ran into any more of those saboteurs!"

Yamamoto, Fukunaga, and a Karasuno pilot with a shaved head were standing in the centre of the ward, comically frozen in the middle of what was either an interpretative dance performance or a very poor martial arts demonstration. Yamamoto — wobbling on one leg, mid-kick — stumbled and had to grab on to the bald guy for support, nearly pulling them both over. Hinata was sat cross-legged on his bed, arms raised as if cheering them on, while on the neighbouring bed, Kenma was nothing but a lump under a sheet, completely hidden from the chaos around him.

Tetsurou flinched when Sawamura spoke next to him.

"You were practising your combat moves... in the medical bay?" he asked. His words were almost conversational, like he just wanted to be sure he understood, but his tone...  There was probably more warmth in the vacuum of space.

All five visible pilots paled. The little wild guy's smile vanished instantly. Then — except for Hinata, who laid back down with his eyes closed in a credible imitation of a stiff corpse — they all snapped to attention.

"Sorry sir!" Yamamoto barked, and Tetsurou's eyes widened when he realised the brash Avenger pilot was _trembling_. Yamamoto had never trembled when _he'd_ told him off. What sort of black magic was this?!

"You know what?" Sawamura said calmly, holding his chin in one hand and his elbow in the other. "A spot of extra training is not a bad idea. Why don't the four of you report to the gym, right now. I'll ask Chief Drago to demonstrate the correct technique. He should be off duty at the moment."

Tetsurou was pretty sure he heard the bald guy whimper. He stood aside as all four pilots marched out, a funereal air to them, then recoiled when he saw Sawamura's cast-iron expression.

"Drago is our gunnery chief and our best close quarters combat expert," Sawamura explained, clasping his hands behind his back. "He also owes me a favour. I'm sure he'll be able to knock some sense into those morons." He glanced at Tetsurou with a twinkle in his eye. "Do you think two hours will be long enough?"

"You are a _monster_ ," Tetsurou gasped. A wicked grin found its way onto his face and he narrowed his eyes. "I love it."

With a pleasant smile, Sawamura went to inflict misery on the unfortunate pilots, leaving the medbay in peace and quiet once more.

Inuoka and Shibayama had already been discharged, so only Kenma and Hinata remained. Both were on the mend, but the medics were keeping them under observation in case any complications arose, so they were stuck in medbay for a while yet. Apparently they'd had plenty of other visitors wishing to congratulate them on their recent heroics; no wonder Kenma was hiding under his sheet.

"It's safe to come out now, Kenma," Tetsurou called, chuckling when a small gap appeared to reveal a single suspicious eye and a few strands of blond hair.

"I want to go home."

"Aww, Kenma!" Hinata said, sitting up now that he was no longer in danger of being vaporised by Sawamura's furious gaze. "It's not been that bad, has it?"

While Tetsurou laughed, Kenma's head slowly poked from under the sheet like a tortoise ponderously emerging from its shell. "Your friends are noisy, Shouyou."

"So are yours!" Hinata shot back, folding his arms. "They're just trying to make sure we don't get bored, that's all."

"Good to see you've both recovered from your attempt at spacing yourselves," Tetsurou said, smiling fondly. "Last time I was here, right after you woke up during the night, you were both much less lively."

"I'm not lively now," Kenma muttered.

Hinata had awoken first, disoriented and half-blind, in the early hours of the morning. Kenma had woken up about an hour later. Both of them were pretty out of it and fell asleep again shortly afterwards, but it had been good to see them both awake, if not exactly fully conscious.

"Sir, can I ask a question?" Hinata asked, turning his attention from Kenma to Tetsurou. "Noya said the two we fought were killed. Do you know what happened? Did someone do it out of revenge?"

"We think someone killed them to keep them quiet," Tetsurou told him, sitting down on the end of Kenma's bed. "But we don't know for sure yet."

More of Kenma had emerged from under the blanket now; there was an arm and a shoulder. Tetsurou half considered laying out a trail of lettuce to lure him out further... or maybe he should just steal Kenma's datapad and place it on the other side of the room. "The woman was well-trained," Kenma said, in that distracted mumble he used when he was thinking. "If Inuoka hadn't got her with a lucky shot, we wouldn't have been able to get to the bomb. And if she was important enough to kill rather than risk her revealing any information..."

"It's likely she was a professional, yes," Tetsurou agreed, finding the nearest hidden limb and poking it. "You got very lucky, mister. What on earth got into you?"

Kenma squirmed out of reach. "Too much to drink."

"Yaku said you only had two at the most. But then he said you also got up to sing karaoke, so he's lost all credibility."

"We did sing! Well, mostly me, but Kenma joined in with the chorus a few times," Hinata assured him, sitting cross-legged and facing them. "But I don't think Kenma had a lot to drink? I kept offering to buy him another one but he kept saying no."

Tetsurou raised an eyebrow and stared down at where Kenma was now fully concealed once more. "What's your excuse now then?" he asked, poking him again.

Kenma kicked out, trying to shove him off the bed. "Temporary insanity. Probably caused by prolonged exposure to you, Kuro."

"I'll bet," Tetsurou laughed, standing up before Kenma could push him off. "So, have you remembered how you broke your arm yet?"

Hinata hid his face in his hands. "We think he broke it by hooking it into the railing and anchoring us both," he said, voice muffled. "Otherwise I would have got sucked out into space with the bomb." Dropping his hands, he bowed until his head was level with his knees and added, "I'm so sorry, Kenma! Please forgive me."

"We already talked about this, Shouyou," Kenma said from under the sheet. "So if you're bowing again, please stop it."

Sheepishly, Hinata straightened up and scratched at the back of his head. "Sorry, Kenma."

The hatch swished open and Yachi, the blonde medic from the day before, entered. "Oh! Hello again, Commander. I didn't expect to see you again so soon — I thought you'd be getting some sleep."

"So did I," Tetsurou said, grinning. "And that's probably next on my list. But I wanted to check on this pair of miscreants first. I hope they haven't been giving you any trouble now they're awake." He prodded at Kenma, eliciting a squeak of annoyance. "Especially this one. He looks harmless but that's just to lure you into a false sense of security."

"No, no, they've been very well behaved! I promise!" Yachi assured him. "It looks like there won't be any complications so we might even discharge them later today. Though it's unlikely Lieutenant Kozume will be able to fly for a few more days yet, until the bones in his arm have knitted."

Even modern medicine could only do so much, Tetsurou knew. Time remained the best healer. "That's good to know," he replied. "But now Kenma's claiming to be suffering from bouts of temporary insanity. Perhaps you should keep him here a bit longer, just in case?"

Kenma sat bolt upright, sheet cast aside, to deliver his most disgusted glare at Tetsurou. "You are a cruel and vindictive person, Kuro."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"I'm a delightful person, I'll have you know. Isn't that right, Hinata?"

Hinata was glancing back and forth between them with steadily mounting confusion. "Um..."

"Don't answer that, Shouyou," Kenma said. To Yachi, who was hiding her smile behind her hand, he said, "Thank you for taking good care of us. However, I need to go now. Before I murder my commanding officer in your medbay."

Closing the distance with a single long stride, Tetsurou pinned him down with one hand before he could finish getting out of bed. "Okay, okay, I give in," he said, laughing. "Stay where you are and I'll leave you in peace."

One angry huff later, Kenma was back under his sheet again.

Tetsurou patted Hinata on the shoulder and gave Yachi his most devious wink as he headed for the door. "Oh, and I'll tell Lev to come keep you company!"

The door slid shut, cutting off Kenma's anguished whine mid-way through.

 

* * *

 

The next day, having been freed from medbay, Kenma was waiting in the spacedock.

There was an itch on the inside of his arm, just below his wrist, and it was driving him mad. He couldn't scratch it because of his cast, and he'd tried not thinking about it, but that only made him think about it more. At least Shouyou ought to arrive any minute now. Maybe that'd be sufficient to distract him from the Demon Itch That Devours Minds. And if not, he might just have to cut off his arm.

He rolled his eyes at the thought. Yep, that made it official: all the chaos of the past couple of days had definitely been too much. He'd gone crazy.

But the wait wasn't helping. Normally he'd be able to lose himself in his datapad — whether doing some work, digging around for interesting information, or playing a game — but he found his fingers kept pausing and his eyes kept defocusing as his mind wandered. Ever since the bombing, his concentration had been shot and he'd become much more easily distracted. He'd even asked Yachi whether inability to focus was a symptom of vacuum exposure, but she'd shaken her head and — in that kind, understated way of hers — quietly suggested he speak to a counsellor.

Kenma hadn't, of course.

Anyway, he wouldn't have to find things to occupy himself if the others had been on time. They were supposed to meet at the spaceport elevator at 1400, and with each passing minute after that, an irrational panic grew inside him. What if something had happened? What if there'd been another attack? He eyed the passersby suspiciously, looking for anything out of the ordinary, but it was the middle of a normal afternoon and nothing raised any red flags. There were perhaps fewer people around than usual, but that was not unexpected.

Finally, he heard a hatch swish open and turned to see Shouyou floating through, laughing; he was flanked on either side by Inuoka and Shibayama, and judging by the wild gesticulations, Inuoka was in the middle of some sort of joke or funny anecdote. Kenma sighed in relief and put away his datapad.

"Sorry, Kenma sir!" Shibayama said, hurrying over. "We, uh, lost track of time...?" He glanced back at Inuoka and Shouyou, both of whom were still laughing as they navigated the stream of people coming and going from the elevator.

"It's okay, Shibayama. I think I get the picture," Kenma said, watching them. All four of them were dressed in civilian outfits, as per Kenma's instructions; a paranoid precaution, perhaps, but there was no harm in being careful. Shouyou was wearing a sports t-shirt of some kind — Kenma didn't recognise the team name or even the sport — but it was a little big for him and kept billowing out as he moved through the zero-g environment, offering brief glimpses of exposed skin beneath.

They'd all been given a day off to recuperate after their discharge from medbay, but the last thing on Kenma's mind had been venturing out into the colony again; he'd intended to spend the time holed up in his quarters, submerged in some suitably distracting game. But when Shouyou had suggested they go out for the afternoon, he'd been unable to refuse. And to be fair, maybe a genuine distraction was what they all needed — himself included.

Yet although Kenma liked his two junior teammates well enough, even if Inuoka could be a bit too excitable at times, he found himself irrationally wishing they hadn't come, that it had just been Shouyou. He wanted more time to get to know this strange, chirpy, energetic little man who had been willing to sacrifice himself barely a day after their first meeting. They'd talked some, in medbay, but with a seemingly endless parade of well-wishers and medics coming and going, it was hardly the best place for private conversation.

"Hi Kenma!" Shouyou said, anchoring himself to the deck and beaming like he intended to outshine the sun. Apart from his bloodshot eyes, you would never be able tell he'd nearly died two nights ago. "All set for our afternoon adventure in the city?"

Kenma's lips twitched traitorously and he cleared his throat to hold back his own smile. "No adventuring," he said sternly. "Kuro and Sawamura agreed to let us go only if we promised not to get into any trouble, remember?"

Shouyou laughed. "I promise!" he said, crossing his heart. "Now c'mon, let's go! We're wasting time and I wanna see New Sendai. Suga said they have a castle!"

For most of the journey out of the spaceport, much of which was spent navigating the queues imposed by the heightened security measures, Kenma stayed silent. Shouyou and Inuoka kept up a non-stop flow of chatter about anything and everything — what they'd eaten for lunch, what their favourite animals were, whether they'd prefer to fight ten crow-sized tigers or one tiger-sized crow, conflicting theories on the merits of various hats (prompted by a passerby wearing a cowboy hat), and so on — and Kenma was content to listen. It was comforting, somehow; like listening to the babble of a brook in a forest.

The only time he did speak was to Shibayama. As Inuoka and Shouyou pulled ahead — distracted by a statue of a horse-riding samurai in the plaza outside the spaceport — Shibayama leaned forward to peer past Kenma's curtain of hair into his face. "Um, Kenma sir? I don't mean to overstep, but are you feeling okay? You seem very quiet. More than usual, I mean," he said, speaking fast as if he'd been bottling up his words and could no longer keep them contained.

Kenma glared at him. "I'm fine."

He might as well have slapped Shibayama in the face given the way the rookie recoiled, and Kenma immediately felt guilty. Shibayama meant well. It wasn't his fault that Kuro had been asking the same thing on what felt like an hourly basis since Kenma had woken up in medbay the day before.

"I'm fine," he repeated, less sharply this time. "Thank you for asking, Shibayama. I'm just tired of people making a fuss." Then, prompted by the annoying voice in his head that sounded just like Kuro, he added, "Are _you_ okay?"

When Shibayama failed to reply, Kenma tore his gaze from Shouyou and Inuoka — the latter seemed to be readying himself to climb up onto the horse's back, behind the samurai — and studied him for a moment. Shibayama obviously _wasn't_ okay, chewing his fingernail while his eyes darted about the plaza, and Kenma bit back a sigh. This sort of thing was supposed to be Kuro's job. Or Yaku's, even. But since they weren't here...

"Shibayama," he prompted, coming to a stop — though he kept an eye on the other two, just in case. It would be terrible luck for Inuoka to survive an attempted bombing only to crack open his head by falling from a bronze horse.

Shibayama thrust his hands into his pockets and squared his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I should have done more," he said, words tumbling forth in another torrent. "Maybe if I'd been faster, or braver, like Inuoka and Shouyou, we could have stopped the bombers from starting the countdown. Or if I'd gotten the doors open quicker, or knew more first aid, maybe you and Shouyou wouldn't —"

"You did plenty," Kenma said, and he didn't even have to lie. While Inuoka had watched the two bombers, Shibayama somehow had the presence of mind to backtrack and grab a pair of oxygen masks from an emergency locker they'd passed on the way to the munitions depot. According to Yachi, it had been the main reason he and Shouyou hadn't suffered any serious complications. "You might have saved our lives," he added for good measure when Shibayama didn't look convinced.

Instead of replying, Shibayama pointed at the statue. "Um. Maybe we should stop them?"

Turning back, Kenma saw that _both_ Inuoka and Shouyou were now on the horse's back — Shouyou was even _standing_. He hurried over, uncomfortably aware of the disapproving stares from people walking past. "Get _down!_ " he hissed, already burning with second-hand embarrassment. Were they both morons? It was like their mental ages halved when they got together. " _Carefully!_ "

Chastened, both slid off the horse and landed lightly on their feet. "Sorry, Lieutenant!" Inuoka said loudly, and Kenma rolled his eyes. So much for going incognito.

"Yeah, sorry, Kenma. Uh, Lieutenant, I mean," Shouyou said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's just nice to be back on my feet, you know?"

Kenma held his glare for another few seconds — to make sure it sunk in — and then let his shoulders slump. "C'mon," he muttered. "I read up on tourist information for the city. There's a pedestrian street full of food stalls and games and such that you might like. It's supposed to be like a mini festival."

The problem children remained well-behaved after their telling off. They took a bus to the city centre, getting off at the central station, and then made their way on foot towards the castle. Kenma navigated using a map on his datapad, choosing a direct route, but it was only when they emerged out into the main square — home to the colony's government buildings — that he remembered Kai's advice to take the scenic route. A subdued protest was taking place, with a small crowd of people camping out in front of the city hall. They weren't making a lot of noise, perhaps out of respect to the makeshift memorial to the lost police officers that had been set up along one wall: flowers, candles, photos, and such.

They had banners and placards, however. Some demanded justice for the attack on the police station; others called for demilitarisation, blaming the garrison and the warships for the violence.

Shouyou had tensed up at the sight of it all, paling, and Kenma quickly consulted his map again. "We'll go around," he said.

The castle and its hill loomed over the main square, so it wasn't hard to find, but Kenma made sure to get there using smaller roads that would avoid any more crowds. Not that there were many people about in the first place; aside from the protesters in the central square, the streets were noticeably quiet. The side streets especially were almost empty, and Kenma could almost physically feel the sense of unease in the atmosphere. There had been no further violence since the attack on the police station, but the locals obviously weren't reassured; those that braved the quiet streets hurried about their business, jumpy and watchful. Something about Kenma's quartet must have stood out because they attracted plenty of suspicious stares, even when Shouyou and Inuoka weren't being particularly noisy.

Kenma didn't blame the locals for their caution, but he didn't like the attention he and his friends were garnering. The fear was somehow contagious; every time he saw someone scurrying past while eyeing them warily, he couldn't help but be on guard himself. It wasn't very relaxing, put it that way.

The castle proved to be a welcome relief, however, particularly since they more or less had the place to themselves. The others were impressed, chattering away about how they'd attack or defend it if they had to, but personally Kenma thought Kai had oversold it in his glowing description. He spent much of the time with his nose in his datapad, trailing after the other three while brushing up on local history and politics.

After that, they walked back into the city, heading vaguely towards the festival street Kenma had read about. They were in no rush and took the time to stop and explore, including taking a tour around an impressive-looking shrine and wandering around an art gallery, though only Shibayama showed any genuine interest. Their next stop was a shopping centre where they split up into pairs to cover ground more quickly. "I want to find something for my sister Natsu," Shouyou said distractedly as Kenma followed him into shop after shop chosen seemingly at random. "I always like to get her a memento from every colony I visit." He paused, giving Kenma a sheepish look, and added, "Though I know it might be a while before I get to give it to her."

It wasn't really the right sort of place for a unique memento; the shopping centre was full of chain stores and fast food outlets. But after half an hour of indecisive browsing — and walking past the same tempting gaming store twice without going inside — Kenma pointed at a small bookshop near one of the exits. "Maybe they sell a guidebook to Miyagi or a photo album of local sights," he suggested somewhat desperately; he couldn't take much more of this traipsing back and forth.

"That would do," Shouyou said, brightening, and they went to investigate. They did find guidebooks, but there was also a corner devoted to arts and crafts, including some peculiar wooden dolls with no arms and legs that the attendant insisted were a local speciality. Kenma thought they looked like rolling pins with faces painted on them, but Shouyou was charmed and picked out a family of three smaller ones to purchase.

"Sorry for dragging you around," he said as they exited. "Did you want to buy anything?"

Kenma thought about the video game shop but shook his head; his feet were aching and he could do with a rest. "Let's go wait for Inuoka and Shibayama."

Their designated meeting point was a set of benches around a decorative raised pond in the middle of the shopping centre; the plants and vine-covered clock tower sprouting from the centre made it a rare splash of natural green amidst all the polished glass and garish signage. Kenma sat down gratefully, sighing with relief as he rested his injured arm in his lap. He'd forgone a sling, thinking it was too conspicuous, but he was starting to regret it.

"Is it hurting?" Shouyou asked, gesturing at it with his chin. "Did you bring any painkillers?"

"I did," Kenma replied, "but I don't need them; it's only aching a little. I'm fine."

"Okay, but make sure you let us know if it does."

They settled into a companionable silence for a couple of minutes before Shouyou's inability to sit still got the better of him. He stood up and went to peer into the pond, humming to himself in contentment as he trailed a finger through the water.

There was something completely dissonant about the sight of him standing there, so cheerful and energetic. Just as the pond itself seemed like a magical oasis of serene calm, Shouyou reminded Kenma of some sort of elfin sprite — like Peter Pan maybe, or some sort of nature spirit. How could he be so upbeat, so peaceful, given everything that had happened? Even here in a brightly lit mall, Kenma could see the apprehension in the shoppers around him; even though they hadn't been in danger themselves, they were afraid.

But not Shouyou. Was he just putting on a brave face, or did he really not care that he'd nearly died? He'd been like that in medbay too, brushing off the concerns of everyone who came to visit, though he'd certainly appreciated their compliments — preening almost smugly when Sugawara heaped praise on him for his quick thinking and positively glowing when Tanaka and Nishinoya repeatedly congratulated him for his courage.

"Can I ask you something, Shouyou?" he said, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Hmm?" Shouyou said absently, looking up from the water. "Sure." He came and sat back down, blinking expectantly. "What did you want to know?"

Kenma hesitated, trying to formulate his question in a way that wouldn't seem too intrusive. "Do you think about it at all? What happened?" He swallowed, trying to moisten his dry throat. "What _nearly_ happened?"

 _Because I do_ , he thought. _I can't_ stop _thinking about it_. Which was stupid, and made no sense, because he'd long since come to terms with his own mortality. Or thought he had, at any rate.

Shouyou's gaze slid off to one side, settling on some spilled liquid — fruit juice, maybe — glinting in the harsh light under a neighbouring bench. "It's not like I've forgotten about it," he admitted. "I remember the roar of the decompression, my saliva bubbling on my tongue, the prickly feeling in my fingers as I tried to press the buttons..." He looked up again, meeting Kenma's eyes with a lopsided smile. "But we did the right thing, didn't we? And we survived."

"So it doesn't bother you?"

He frowned at that, his brows pulling together in confusion. "Bother me?"

Kenma couldn't hold his gaze any longer and ducked his head. "You nearly died, Shouyou."

There was a long pause before Shouyou responded. Out of the corner of his eye, Kenma saw him shift position on the bench, stretching his legs out and shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. "Of course it bothers me, Kenma," he said quietly. "It's not like I want to die. But then I think of all the people we saved, of what would have happened if I'd chickened out. And isn't that why we're here? To protect everyone?" Kenma watched as he tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling with a wistful smile on his face. "I want to make a difference. It'd bother me more if I'd stayed at home, letting other people risk their lives for me."

Kenma's lungs had stopped functioning somewhere in the middle of that and he had to remind them to get back to work. His fingers were trembling and a hot, dizzy sensation flushed through him.

"But you know all that, right?" Shouyou said cheerfully, nudging him with his shoulder. "You made the same choice. You stayed, even though you didn't have to." He chuckled awkwardly. "Thanks again for that, by the way. It meant a lot."

"No problem," Kenma croaked, his voice so distorted that it sounded like someone else talking.

They were saved from the ensuing silence by Inuoka and Shibayama, both bearing the fruits of their shopping expedition. Inuoka cheerfully showed them the new clothes and shoes he'd bought, as well as a poster of his favourite volleyball team to go in his cabin, and Shibayama shyly handed out a couple of locally-made sweets, saying that he'd bought enough for everyone in both teams. They were a little gooey, leaving Kenma's fingers sticky, but certainly tasty.

The little snack made them realise how hungry they were getting, having worked up an appetite from their wander around the city, so they set off towards the festival street. Fortunately, they'd timed their arrival well — the food stalls were in full swing as the mirrors overhead were just beginning to close, heralding the arrival of evening. Here, at least, people seemed to be enjoying themselves, and the bustling activity of the food vendors, carnival games, and street performers chased away any lingering apprehensions from earlier.

By then Shouyou's stomach was audibly growling so they wasted no time in heading over to a brightly-decorated stall; it emanated such a delicious aroma that Kenma was already salivating. He recognised hardly any of the dishes, however, and it was only at Shouyou's urging ("It won't kill you, Kenma! Pick something at random and try something new!") that he ended up with some pancake-like things stuffed with curried meat and potato.

Laden with their food, they drifted over to a bench under one of the many trees that ran down the middle of the pedestrianised street and dug in. Kenma sat at one end, nibbling at his stuffed pancakes, while Shouyou devoured a bag of sweet-smelling fried dough balls with ferocious intensity.

"Vont vo vry von?" Shouyou asked, his cheeks comically inflated with food as he held out the bag towards Kenma.

Delicately, Kenma picked one of the dough balls from the bag and bit into it. It was crispy on the outside but soft inside, and had some sort of yummy paste in the centre. "Not bad," he admitted.

Shouyou swallowed and laughed. "I know, right? I could eat these all day!"

"You'd probably make yourself sick," Kenma pointed out, grinning faintly; Shouyou had mentioned the mishap after his first battle while they'd been stuck in medbay.

"Worth it," Shouyou insisted mid-chew.

Not wanting to be left out, Inuoka reached across Shouyou to offer some of his food too — some sort of spicy-smelling bun things. "Here!" he said, offering one to Kenma. "Take a bite!"

Kenma really wanted to refuse, but Shouyou was watching expectantly, so he leaned over and bit into it. At first it wasn't so bad — there was curry and rice inside — but then the hot spicy flavour kicked in, burning his mouth. It was like _lava._ Left with a choice between spitting it out all over the place and swallowing, he swallowed, but that only made him choke.

"Inuoka! Are you trying to murder him?" Shibayama scolded, scurrying over with a bottle of lemony water. Kenma accepted it gratefully, sucking down the fluid in an attempt to quench the inferno in his mouth and throat while Shouyou patted him on the back.

"I'm so sorry!" Inuoka said, eyes wide as he got up to help too. "I didn't think it was _that_ hot!"

"Can you breathe okay, Kenma sir?" Shibayama asked, hovering anxiously.

By now Kenma was surrounded, with Shouyou and Inuoka to the sides and Shibayama in front, and a sudden sensation of claustrophobia bubbled up inside him. It met his hoarse, burning throat halfway and he had to stand up and push his way past the others, trying to gulp down air. "Just... give me some space!" he complained breathlessly, fending Inuoka off with one hand as they all tried to cluster around him again.

If only they'd stop making a fuss! He could feel their anxious gazes on him, crawling over his skin, and their worry was almost palpable, thickening the air into a kind of cloying soup. Fifteen years ago he would have run off without another word, escaping to some quiet hiding place to recover, but that was no longer an option. It was no longer _necessary_. He wasn't an invalid anymore.

With a couple more deep breaths, he turned around and tried to defuse the situation.

"I just thought I was about to throw up for a moment, that's all," he reassured them quietly. "I'm better now."

Shouyou relaxed instantly, though he didn't sit down, but both Shibayama and Inuoka remained concerned.

"You're not going to tell Commander Kuroo I nearly poisoned you, are you? He'd probably shoot me if anything else happened to you," Inuoka said miserably, his eyebrows raised and his bottom lip jutting out slightly. It made him look so much like a scolded puppy that Kenma had to hide his grin by wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"Contrary to Kuro's belief, I am not made of glass," Kenma told him, going back to the bench and sitting down. "Nor would he shoot you." But then he narrowed his eyes and studied Inuoka's anxious face. "Why? Did he say something to you?"

It would be just like Kuro to tell them to babysit him, as though Kenma was incapable of looking after himself, and from the way Inuoka winced, he'd guessed correctly. "What did he say exactly, Inuoka?"

"Nothing!" he protested, his voice shooting up an octave as his eyes darted around, searching for an escape route. "Just that we should all be extra careful, that's all!"

By Inuoka's side, Shibayama nodded vigorously in agreement. "Yup! Extra careful!" he chipped in.

Kenma rolled his eyes. That meddling little—

"I think it's nice that he's worried about us," Shouyou said, looking between them in confusion. "But is Commander Kuroo really that scary?"

Kenma snorted. "No," he said, at the same time as Inuoka said "Yes!". With a weary sigh, he gestured to the bench to get them to sit down again. "He's just over-protective, that's all."

Once they'd settled down on the bench again, stiff and tense and nibbling at their food politely like they were schoolkids eating with their strict headmaster, Kenma realised he was going to have to say something more or it would ruin the rest of their day.

Fine. If Kuro wanted to meddle, he could deal with the consequences too.

"He's my step-brother," he said reluctantly, breaking the awkward silence. "He's been stuck in annoying big brother mode ever since we were kids, even though he promised not to treat me any differently from the rest of the team."

"Oh!" Inuoka said, while Shibayama's expression suggested about twelve different light bulbs had all lit up at once in his head.

Shouyou, on the other hand, bounced in his seat. "That's awesome!" he said, nearly spilling his remaining dough ball things. "No wonder he was teasing you in medbay yesterday. I think it's great that you get to be with your family like that."

Kenma couldn't help but huff with disbelieving laughter. "If you say so." Then, seeing the flicker of uncertainty on Shouyou's face, he continued. "It's great except when he treats me like I'm seven years old again."

Shouyou nodded in understanding. "Siblings can be annoying sometimes," he agreed. "My little sister Natsu can be a real pain when she wants to be." Pulling two tufts of hair up in an imitation of pigtails, he stuck out his tongue and scrunched up his face. "Moooooom! Shouyou's being meeeeean to me again! He won't let me have the last bit of caaaake!" he whined in a surprisingly high-pitched falsetto. As Inuoka and Shibayama started to laugh, Shouyou joined in too, but then he popped the last of the dough balls into his mouth and gave Kenma a shrug. "But I'd probably be protective of her too if she was a pilot in my team," he said with his mouth full. "So don't be too hard on Kuroo. He probably can't help it."

"You don't understand, Shouyou," Kenma said, poking half-heartedly at his own food; he'd lost his appetite now. "It's suffocating. He's _always_ been like that."

He was aware that he probably shouldn't be badmouthing Kuro in front of their subordinates, but Kuro had brought this on himself by enlisting Inuoka and Shibayama as undercover bodyguards or nurses or whatever secret instructions they'd been given.

"Why?" Shouyou asked innocently, then glanced down at the remains of Kenma's stuffed pancake hopefully.

There was something about his open, friendly face and bright-eyed curiosity that disarmed Kenma's usual secretive instincts. Besides, Kenma _had_ asked him a personal question earlier and Shouyou given him a straight answer, so it was only fair to respond in kind. Handing the pancake over to him to finish off, Kenma folded his arms and slouched down on the bench, making himself smaller.

"I was a sickly kid," he admitted quietly, as Shouyou demolished the pancake in three enormous bites. "And he was eldest, so our parents — my mother, his father — gave him strict instructions to look after me." He sighed, ducking his head and letting his hair fall forward. He didn't want to see the pitying looks he was sure were directed his way. "My illness meant I stayed inside a lot, couldn't do a lot of the things other kid did. Suited me just fine most of the time, but it could also be... boring. And frustrating. For Kuro, too."

"But you're okay now, right?" Shouyou asked. At his surprisingly casual tone, Kenma glanced over to see him licking his fingers clean in a distinctly unhygienic fashion. "I mean, if you weren't, they wouldn't let you be a pilot, would they?"

Kenma blinked, completely taken aback. "Exactly!" he said, straightening a little. "I'm — it's —" He swallowed and started again. "Medicine advanced a lot during the One Year War. New treatments emerged for all sorts of illnesses afterwards." With a shrug, he unfolded his arms again and went on. "No cure, but as long as I take regular medication, I'm completely fine. There's no need for people to worry over it."

Looking down the bench at the others, could see their burning curiosity written across their faces... but none of them wanted to be the one to ask. To his surprise, it was Shibayama who spoke in the end.

"Um, I... kinda overheard Commander Kuroo mention something... y'know, when he was talking to the medics, while you were unconscious." He scrunched up his face in embarrassment. "I might have looked it up afterwards...? Sorry. I know I shouldn't have. It was none of my business."

Kenma rolled his eyes in wry amusement. If Shibayama knew, he might as well tell the other two; they'd only try to wheedle it out of Shibayama if he didn't. "Guhler's Syndrome," he said softly. "It's a genetic blood disorder, a little like haemophilia but rarer and harder to treat. Any sort of bleeding becomes dangerous, especially internal bleeding."

He could understand why his family had been so protective of him — especially Kuro, after that tree-climbing mishap — but at times they'd made him feel like a prisoner. Boredom had driven him to do all sorts of things, including picking up some useful computing skills (and certain bad habits, as Kuro regularly complained). He'd craved mental stimulation and didn't much care what provided it.

"So how come you decided to join the military?" Shouyou asked, cracking open a can of fizzy drink and taking a sip. He stared intently at Kenma over the rim as he did so, like he was watching for something in particular. "I mean, I get why you might have been frustrated — I'd have gone crazy if I couldn't go outside! — but even if you ran out of video games to play and got super bored, I doubt your next thought would be 'okay, guess I'll become a mobile suit pilot now!'"

Kenma couldn't help but smile at that, though he did his best to hide it. "Actually, you're closer than you think," he admitted, before pausing and trying to decide how much more to say. "I had an encounter with the military when I was fifteen. I'd always liked games, especially strategy and flight sims, and one of them suggested I give the real thing a try. It sounded like an interesting challenge, so here I am."

Shouyou nodded thoughtfully. "That's pretty cool," he said. There was a hint of something like disappointment in his eyes that made Kenma want to justify himself further, but Shouyou continued without giving him a chance, his tone light and cheerful.  "So is all that why you're so quiet around people and always have your nose buried in your datapad?" he asked, flashing Kenma a mischievous smile.

Uncomfortably aware of Shibayama and Inuoka listening in with ill-disguised curiosity, not to mention the way his cheeks were heating up, Kenma decided he'd had enough of talking about himself. "Maybe," he said, standing up. "But speaking of games, why don't we try some?" He pointed further down the street where various carnival games were situated, most of them playing music that blended together in a sort of rowdy discord. "Shall we have a competition to see who can win the most?"

He'd said the magic word; any thoughts of further interrogation evaporated as both Shouyou and Inuoka leapt eagerly to their feet. Shibayama's rueful grin said he'd seen through the ruse, but he went along with it anyway.

It quickly became apparent, however, that Kenma had made a tactical error. Somewhere between their third go at popping balloons with darts and moving on to the ring toss, it had become less about distracting the others and more about winning at all costs. Shouyou turned out to be one of the most competitive people he'd ever met — perhaps _the_ most competitive — and Kenma, for all his apathy, did _not_ like to lose.

Kenma had skill and patience and a cast-iron refusal to be beaten, but Shouyou had the reflexes of a wild animal and the most ridiculous luck. No matter what Inuoka said afterwards, Shouyou winning the fifth round of that shooting game was undoubtedly a fluke; either that or the operator had somehow rigged the game to favour redheads. Kenma got his own back at a game where you had to throw small balls into holes worth different points depending on difficulty, mainly because Shouyou kept going for the highest scoring holes and missing while Kenma steadily racked up easy points, but then Shouyou proved victorious at whack-a-mole.

Although Inuoka won at the bell-ringing game, hitting the target so hard that he almost broke the mallet, Kenma and Shouyou were neck and neck in the lead. Only one game remained: a series of ducks (and, incongruously enough, penguins and crabs) floated along an oval trough, waiting to be unceremoniously yanked from their sedate journey by a hooked pole. It was meant for young children and there was little to no skill involved — the hoops on the animals were large and easy to grab, and every animal was worth a prize of some sort — but it was the only game they hadn't tried.

"This is the tiebreaker then," Shouyou declared, striding over to it. "Whoever gets the top score wins." He paid for two goes and held out a pole for Kenma with a sneaky grin. "Unless you admit defeat?"

Kenma snatched the pole from him, trying to ignore the judging stare from the game's owner, and focused on the game. Having watched a couple of excited kids play first, he could see no discernible logic to the score painted on the bottom of each animal, so he tried to put himself in the mind of the owner — a wizened old man with at least one missing tooth and more hair in his eyebrows than on his scalp. He seemed a tricky sort. Would he paint the top score on one of the ducks, the most common animals? Or on the crabs, maybe, which were slightly harder to grab? Or maybe it was neither, and the top scorer was one of the penguins?

Shouyou had already fished out one of the bright yellow ducks — he hadn't even hesitated, just chosen one seemingly at random — but he kept it clutched in his hand without turning it over. "It's not that complicated, Kenma," he said, a taunting edge to his voice. "That little boy managed it before us. Just hook one!"

After restraining the urge to whack him on the head with the pole, Kenma narrowed his eyes, reached out, and neatly plucked one of the crabs from the water. He turned it over.

One point.

"Ha! A thousand points! Suck on that, Kenma!" Shouyou crowed, shoving the dripping underside of a rubber duck in his face. Sure enough, 1000 was emblazoned proudly along the bottom.

"How?!" Kenma demanded, batting it away. "How the hell did you do that?"

"I just went with my gut!" he said, grinning triumphantly. He handed the duck to the sceptical owner who double-checked it before reluctantly letting him pick out a prize. Cackling like an idiot, Shouyou went for a stuffed toy: a white unicorn with a rainbow mane, nearly half a metre long, which he promptly offered to Kenma. "Here," he said between laughs. "Your consolation prize."

The look of pure disgust that Kenma levelled at him should have blistered skin, but Shouyou just laughed even more. "Okay, suit yourself," he said, scampering over to a mother watching with three small children and gifting it to the youngest, a little girl with a lollipop in her mouth. Her face lit up in delight as Shouyou handed over the stuffed toy.

"If either of you speak a word of this to anyone," Kenma muttered to his two teammates, "I will have you court-martialled."

"Uh, sure," Inuoka said, trying to smother his laughter with one hand. "Not a word."

Shibayama mimed zipping his lips shut, which would have been more convincing if he hadn't then begun whistling innocently.

Kenma sighed.

 


	9. Lonely

As fun as it had been to have a day off in the city with his new friends, Shouyou was glad to be back on duty. With everything that was going on, they all had plenty of work ahead of them.

So, naturally, he overslept.

It must have been all that time spent sleeping in medbay throwing off his body clock. Or maybe it was because he'd stayed up late playing two-player video games with Kenma (who thoroughly thrashed him) after returning from New Sendai. Either way, as he raced through the corridors — narrowly avoiding falling into a hole in the deck where a technician was working on some cables — he vowed never to rely on his datapad's alarm again. Maybe he should get a proper alarm clock, one of those ones so loud they came with health warnings, or maybe he should rig up a bucket of water over his bed attached to some kind of timer.

Shouyou hopped from foot to foot as he waited for the lift to arrive, then gave up after five seconds and went for the ladders instead. His stomach growled as he hauled himself up into the zero-gravity areas of the ship but there was no time to eat. If he hurried, he might just make it...

His luck held. He arrived just as a group of Nekoma pilots were entering the simulator room and he slipped inside behind Lev Haiba.

After checking his watch, he grinned. "40 seconds to spare," he whispered to himself. "Easy!"

Although it did look like he was the last to arrive. All of the other Avenger pilots were present already: six from Karasuno, five from Nekoma. Sawamura was at the front, talking quietly with Azumane and one of the Nekoma guys (Kai, maybe? He still hadn't quite learnt all their names). Most of the noise was coming from Tanaka and Yamamoto, who were squaring off and bantering about something or other. At least it seemed good-natured, though the hungry, toothy grins on show made Shouyou feel like he'd just fallen inside a tank full of piranhas.

"Oh! Hinata! There you are. You're easy to miss," Haiba said, loud enough to carry through the entire room. "I hope you're back at 100% because I want to beat you fair and square!"

Had Shouyou been standing rather than floating, he would have had to crane his neck. "110%!" he declared, puffing up his chest and meeting Haiba's challenging gaze head-on. "120, even. So there's no way you'll win." His determination wavered for just a second as he felt eyes on him; most people were looking their way now. "Um, beat me at what though?"

Sawamura chuckled and then clapped his hands for attention. "Now that everyone's here," he said, his deep voice reverberating around the room, "let me explain the plan. We've stood down from alert status, so no more patrols for the time being. Instead, for the next couple of days, we're going to be training in groups according to our specialisations, rather than by teams." He nodded at Kai, who picked up from where left off.

"The idea is to share expertise and mix up teams to help get to know each other better, so learn as much as you can," Kai explained. "We'll be working through various exercises and evaluating our performance along the way. Since we're Avenger pilots, we'll be concentrating on standard combat scenarios. To start with, we're going to have some general skirmishes against AI opponents — nothing challenging, just enough to get us warmed up."

With an amused glance in Shouyou's direction, Sawamura gestured behind him at one of the monitors at the control station. "But a little competition can't hurt, so at the same time we'll be keeping track of how everyone's doing on the scoreboard here. I'm sure we can come up with a suitable reward for first place."

Shouyou licked his lips as his pulse quickened. _Bring it on!_

 

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, they took a short break.

Hopping out of his simulator pod, Shouyou hurried over to the scoreboard, dodging this way and that to try to peek past everyone else and catch sight of the tallies.

When he finally did get a good look, he started at the top of the table and searched for his name — and with every name that wasn't his, his heart sank deeper and deeper, until finally it settled in the pit of his stomach like a black hole. "I don't believe it, _"_ he murmured, finding his name second from the bottom.

Okay, so maybe he hadn't been in top form, but he'd hoped for the top half of the table at least. This was meant to be his opportunity to show off what he was capable of without Kageyama's help; he didn't want people to see him as just the junior partner of the 'Quickshot Duo', he wanted to earn respect as a pilot in his own right.

But this?! This was a disaster!

Tanaka clapped his shoulder. "At least you're not dead last," he said with a chuckle; that dubious honour belonged to one of the other Nekoma pilots, a rookie that Shouyou couldn't remember the name of.

"Easy for you to say, Mr Top-of-the-Table," Shouyou said, scrunching up his face in frustration. He turned away from the monitors with a groan, unable to bear the sight of it any more. "Dammit!"

"Hey now," Tanaka said as he ruffled Shouyou's hair. "You're doing fine — it's not like you're way behind everyone else."

"But I don't want to be behind _anyone_." Even that gangly monster Haiba was ahead of him, albeit only by one point, showing that his endless boasting apparently did have a grain of truth in it. Although Haiba did also top the table for the most deaths; he'd somehow got himself blown up in every round so far. "I thought for sure I'd at least be in the top five."

Tanaka eyed him for a moment, eyebrows raised, and then steered him over to where a bag of drink pouches was floating, anchored to the only unused simulator pod — the haunted one — by a magnetic clamp. Fishing one of the drinks out, he passed it to Shouyou and grinned. "Here," he said. "Cool down with a drink. You look hot."

Shouyou took his anger out on the pouch, squeezing every last drop of the fruit juice into his mouth rather than sucking it out. He glared back over at the rankings, hoping they'd change before his eyes, but no such luck.

It's not like the scenarios were even that tough. Sawamura had kept things simple, and although the environment varied from round to round — sometimes open space, sometimes more constrained battlefields like outside a colony or inside a debris field — the only objective was to destroy as many incoming opponents as they could. Shouyou liked to do the same thing to blow off steam, and he and Kageyama had often used similar exercises in their Quickshot training.

Ennoshita came over to join them, getting a drink for himself. "Hmm," he said, observing the board. "Could be better, Hinata."

"I know that!"

"He knows that," Tanaka echoed, still grinning. "Hinata wanted to be in the top five."

The top five were Tanaka in the lead, Yamamoto trailing by a single point, then Azumane, Fukunaga, and finally Sawamura. Now that he thought about it, Azumane's third place position was surprising; Shouyou figured Karasuno's ace would be at the top of the table given his reputation, but maybe he was having an off day. Glancing over to where Azumane was listening despondently to Sawamura, it didn't look like he was particularly happy about it either. But it was reassuring to know that even aces had bad days sometimes.

Meanwhile, Kai and Sawamura were both close behind and their wealth of experience was obvious — they calmly racked up kills, offering guidance to everyone else as they fought, and neither had yet been destroyed during a round.

"Oi! Tanaka! I'll overtake you in the next round, you wait!" Yamamoto called from the other end of the room. Tanaka turned and floated over, shouting back.

Ennoshita shook his head in exasperation. "Idiots," he said fondly, before returning his attention to Shouyou. "Don't take it too hard, Hinata," he said. "This is basically just a warm-up exercise, remember. We're going to change things up shortly anyway."

"It's just... It's just that I thought I was better than that," Shouyou admitted, dumping his drink back in the bag.

"You've been a pilot for less than two weeks," Ennoshita pointed out. "Most of the others have been doing this for more than two years." He glanced back at the scoreboard, frowning briefly, then shrugged. "Besides, we're here to learn, aren't we? To get better."

Shouyou blew out a long breath. "But how?" If he knew what he was doing wrong, he wouldn't be doing it.

"By watching each other," Ennoshita said. "It's hard to learn anything when you're in the middle of a fight, so after the next round we'll be splitting into pairs. One person will pilot while the other observes, and then they'll swap around, and afterwards they'll discuss."

Huh... that sounded interesting. It was a bit like some of the training he'd done at the academy, but back then his instructor had been watching multiple cadets at the same time. Having someone watching him for the whole time made him a little nervous, but also excited.

Shouyou chewed his lip, nodding slowly. Maybe he'd get to show his stuff after all. "Who's pairing with who?"

Ennoshita grinned and pointed at the board. "Top half and bottom half," he said, "except for Sawamura, at least. He says he's going to go around and observe everyone. Why do you ask? Do you have someone in mind?"

"The best!" Shouyou said immediately, trying (and failing) to contain a cheeky smile. "Of course."

Rolling his eyes, Ennoshita laughed and folded his arms. "Yeah, I should have guessed. Which means Tanaka, unless Yamamoto actually does manage to overtake him. But I'm not so sure either of those loudmouths would be best for you, Hinata."

"Oh?"

"From what I've seen of your piloting, your biggest problem is a lack of situational awareness." He gave Shouyou a thoughtful look and added, "Maybe that's why you work so well with Kageyama, because he provides that."

Shouyou couldn't help but frown. "I don't want to rely on him all the time."

"Quite right," Ennoshita agreed, nodding. "Which is why you might be better off learning from someone less impulsive, like Kai or Azumane, because both Tanaka and Yamamoto tend to suffer from the same problem you do — they get carried away sometimes." He shrugged. "Anyway, whoever you do get paired up with, bear that in mind, okay? Try to be more observant of your surroundings and don't just focus solely on your target."

That... made sense, Shouyou realised. He'd always struggled with situational awareness and his instructors frequently criticised him for it back at the academy, but he figured that if he could take down his targets quickly enough, it didn't matter so much. And it was true that he envied flashy, aggressive pilots like Tanaka and tried to emulate them instead of the more understated pilots.

"Okay," Shouyou said. "I'll try."

When Sawamura called an end to their break, they returned to their simulator for the final round. Shouyou tried to keep Ennoshita's words in mind, but when the particle beams began to fly and friend and foe alike were flashing by, the flare of their thrusters streaking across his panoramic display, it was difficult not to get tunnel vision. He felt like if he didn't block out the distractions and focus fully on his target, he'd lose track of them, but he did his best to keep one eye out for trouble.

This time, they were fighting near Earth's atmosphere, which was shaded a dark red on his display to warn him not to get too close. Mobile suits could fight in atmosphere too, but typically they couldn't survive re-entry unaided, so if he got too close to the planet, the denser air would start dragging at his mobile suit and pull him in.

Conscious of the danger but trying not to dwell on it, he instead focused on finishing off his current target — a pesky Defender that kept zig-zagging, dodging his shots. He hit the thrusters and closed the range, trying to time his opponent's movements and firing a shot just after they changed course. It hit and he gave a triumphant grin as he flew past, already scanning the area for his next prey.

The sky was full of mobile suits, darting around on his display; a status readout on one side told him that they were down three suits of their own, but that there were still fifteen opponents left. He selected the nearest, an Avenger who was busy chasing Narita, and matched its movements to make it easier to hit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something flash past behind him and immediately broke off, realising he'd picked up a pursuer of his own. A moment later, he found them: an enemy Avenger, closing in fast and firing on the move.

Wrenching his own Avenger into a corkscrew, he fired a few haphazard shots back to distract the enemy and caught one incoming blast on his armoured shield, vaporising most of it and jolting the suit severely. Another shot glanced off his armour, setting off more alarms and drenching part of his system status display in reds and yellows, but by then he was already braking hard, the pod shaking in an attempt to simulate the g-forces he'd be experiencing if he pulled the manoeuvre for real. The sudden deceleration caught his opponent by surprise, letting Shouyou line up a good shot and spear him with a particle bolt.

He took only a moment to catch his breath and shut off the alarms before wiping the sweat from his forehead and checking his scanners once more. Only five other friendly suits were left to face eleven opponents, and one of those enemies — a distant Bombardier — was already firing on him from a distance with missiles. A crazy idea sprang to life in Shouyou's mind as he spotted another enemy Avenger hurtling past nearby, so he ignored the missiles and gave chase. He didn't shoot yet — he didn't want to alert his target that he was getting closer — but he kept his eyes open and listened to the increasingly urgent beeping of the missile lock alert, getting faster and faster as the missiles approached. When he was only a few dozen metres from his opponent and the alarm was almost a constant shriek, he hit the thrusters hard and leapt forwards, shooting up to the enemy suit and grabbing it from behind.

With a laugh of triumphant glee, he spun the enemy suit around and kicked it in the direction of the missiles, only to be rewarded by a dazzling explosion. His happiness was short lived, however, because the second missile flew straight through the explosion right at him. He tried to evade, but it was too close and a moment later his pod went dark.

He was dead.

"Damn! So close," he muttered, punching his palm. He took a few deep breaths to try to bring his heart rate back under control and then he popped open the lid.

It didn't take long for the scenario to end. They lost, but it was a close run thing: only two enemies remained when Sawamura finally went down.

"Right," the commander said as soon as his simulator pod cracked open. "Now that we've had some fun, we're going to get down to work."

Just as Ennoshita had said, Sawamura split them all into pairs, using their final standing on the scoreboard to do it. Yamamoto had edged ahead of Tanaka (much to the latter's dismay), and he got assigned to work with the poor guy at the bottom of the table, Sugimura. Tanaka was then paired up with Haiba, and next — to Shouyou's delight — Azumane was assigned to him. Once Sawamura had finished his assignments and explained what was going to happen, he gestured for them all to get started.

Shouyou bounced over to where Azumane was pensively examining the scoreboard. "It's okay," he said, trying to cheer him up. "You're probably just having a bad day, right?"

Azumane started in surprise and looked down at Shouyou. "Oh! No, it's not that," he said, smiling. "Don't worry about it. So, we're going to be working together!"

"Yeah!" Shouyou replied, grinning back. "I'm looking forward to it. I'm sure I can learn a lot from our ace!"

"Don't go believing everything Nishinoya says," Azumane said modestly, ducking his head. He sighed, brushing his fingers through his hair, and looked up again. "How do you want to start? Do you want to go first, or would you rather watch me?"

Thinking back to what Ennoshita had said, Shouyou figured it made more sense for him to go first and listen to what advice Azumane could give him. Then they could swap around and he could see it in practice by watching a true pro at work. He said as much, making Azumane chuckle nervously. "I'm sure I'll learn things from you as well," he said. "But I'll do my best to give you some tips."

Shouyou returned to his pod and strapped in, flicking the switch to close it up and tapping in some commands to start the scenario that Sawamura had set up: another wave-based attack, starting with one-on-one, then two against one, then three, and so on until the pilot lost. It was a common academy training exercise and as a cadet Shouyou had often competed with his friends to see what wave he could reach; his best had been wave four, but he'd only achieved that once and never been able to repeat his success.

"Alright Hinata," Azumane's voice said over the comm. "I'm here, but I won't interrupt. We can discuss it after, okay?"

"Right," Shouyou agreed, getting ready.

Sawamura had chosen Miyagi colony as the backdrop for the fight, but it didn't really factor into the battle; Shouyou's opponent was targeting him alone, so they were able to focus on each other. It was an even match — Avenger versus Avenger — but against a lone opponent, Shouyou felt reasonably confident, and sure enough he was able to evade long enough to get in a killing shot without taking any damage himself. He waited for the next wave to start, spotting two thruster trails approaching from beyond the colony, but frowned when one of them split off.

"Huh?" he said, wondering aloud, then kicked in his own thrusters to close the distance rather than wait for them to come to him. To his alarm, he realised that the other mobile suit had gone after the colony itself instead — very much _not_ part of the usual scenario — and that meant he had to go intercept it while dodging the remaining opponent's attacks. It was difficult, because he had to split his attention between both enemies, and he took a hit to one of his legs, knocking out the thrusters there. At least his target wasn't paying him much attention, because he managed to take it out before it could do much damage to the colony. That left him free to focus fully on the one attacking him. He was at a mild disadvantage thanks to his damaged thrusters, but he used the sturdy shield attached to his left arm to cover his approach and managed to damage the enemy Avenger on his first pass, circling around to finish the job.

There was no time for him to recover: a shrill bleep alerted him to the arrival of three new enemies. Once again, one of them split off to attack the colony while the other two came straight for him.

At first, Shouyou tried to repeat the tactic he'd used before — evade until he could intercept the mobile suit shooting up the colony, then tackle his own assailants — but he quickly realised that wasn't going to work after he lost his shield and his left arm. Instead he targeted the nearest attacker and fired several rapid shots at it, forcing it to break off, before focusing on the other. They were close, and Shouyou was momentarily taken aback when it fired a trio of short-range rockets at him. He sprayed them with bullets from the twin Vulcan cannons mounted in his Avenger's head, knocking out two, but the third hit, shaking his cockpit and damaging more of his systems. His Avenger responded sluggishly to his attempts to turn it around. Even so, he lined up a shot on his enemy as it zoomed past, spearing it with a single particle blast, but a couple of seconds later the other enemy finished him off from behind; he hadn't even seen it coming.

"Good job," Azumane told him warmly over the comms. "Um, do you want to discuss it now?"

"Yes please," Shouyou sighed, thumping his head back against the support. "What did I do wrong?"

Azumane paused, probably thinking up a polite way to tell Shouyou how much he sucked. "What do _you_ think you did wrong?" he asked finally.

Shouyou activated the replay system, going back to when the third wave started. "If I'd been quicker to take out the guy attacking the colony, I could have focused on the other two sooner." He unpaused the replay and watched for a few seconds, noting how wide his shots were against his target; he'd been afraid of hitting the colony himself, so after a few shots he'd held fire until he could get closer. "Or maybe I should have ignored him? But then he could have done a lot of damage."

"It's a tough call," Azumane agreed gravely. "I'd hate to be in this situation for real. But, um, as you found out, taking on the third mobile suit would have meant getting close to it unless you want to risk hitting the colony yourself, and meanwhile... the, uh, other two have no such problems — they're just as happy to shoot it as they are you."

"I see that now," Shouyou said, still watching the replay; at least one of the other two had indeed hit the colony, apparently by accident. "So I should have focused on the two attacking me first?"

"Yes, I think so. If you can at least stop one of them, then you can probably take on the guy attacking the colony before he can do too much damage."

"What about my piloting?" Shouyou asked eagerly. "Any tips?"

Azumane chuckled at his enthusiasm. "You're very good at evading," he commented. "Almost reminds me of Noya at times. But maybe that's also affecting your aim? It looks... it's like maybe you rush your shots sometimes. If you're in no immediate danger, don't be afraid to take your time to line up a better shot."

"Gotcha," Shouyou said, committing the advice to memory. "I was surprised when that one guy used his rockets."

"Honestly, so was I," Azumane admitted. "They're only useful at short ranges, but it looks like they make a good distraction at least? I might try using them more often myself."

Shouyou smiled. "So we're _both_ learning from my mistakes, huh?"

Azumane laughed again, sounding more at ease than he had before. "Sure," he said.

"Should we swap now then? I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do!"

There was a sigh and a short pause before Azumane replied. "Alright. But I doubt I'll get much further than you did."

"You don't know that until you try, sir!" Shouyou assured him, but his display was already restarting as it synchronised with Azumane's.

It was weird, watching Azumane fly. Shouyou had done a few exercises like this back at the academy, and even back then it had been strange, like being inside a mobile suit that was flying itself. Although his pod didn't respond physically — so he didn't get shaken around like he would have done if he were the one flying — he was seeing exactly what Azumane saw, almost like seeing through his eyes. Shouyou was careful to keep quiet, not wanting to distract the senior pilot by saying anything, and tried his best to learn what he could.

One thing was for sure: Azumane's experience showed. He was somehow _smoother_ in his movements than Shouyou was, more measured and deliberate. He took down the first wave like it was nothing, nailing the enemy Avenger with a distance shot at the extreme edge of the particle rifle's range, and Shouyou couldn't contain a little gasp of astonishment; there was no way _he_ could have pulled that off, at least not without Kageyama's help.

Azumane was already closing on the colony when the second wave arrived, allowing him to intercept the one attacking it before it could do much; like he'd said, he took his time, and Shouyou could see him lining up the shot carefully to make sure it would hit before pulling the trigger. Two shots, two enemies down — Shouyou had fired at least six shots by this point, but he kept his thoughts to himself as Azumane dodged some incoming fire and responded with a flurry of his own shots, ripping apart the second enemy mobile suit.

"Awesome!" he whispered, unable to hold it in.

But when the third wave arrived, Azumane seemed to freeze; it wasn't until a long-range shot flashed by that he reacted, and that was only to yell with alarm and to send his suit into a wild spin.

"Asahi," a deep voice said — Sawamura's, he realised. "Don't lose focus."

It must have been a blip of some kind, because Azumane regained control after Sawamura's words and tackled the two opponents focusing on him first. He took a shot on the shield while he took out his first target, damaging it enough to make it worthless, so he threw it away rather than have it weigh him down. Following his own advice, he fired a few rockets at the remaining target to distract it while he locked onto the one attacking the colony, moving closer to the colony so that he had a clean shot before shooting. Shouyou wondered why he'd also flown _away_ from the target, but then Azumane's suit took another glancing hit, knocking out the particle rifle. Instead, he drew his beam sabre and charged at the last target, spiralling in as he approached; he took two more hits on the way in but sliced the enemy mobile suit apart as he flashed past.

"That was _amazing_ ," Shouyou said aloud, before clamping a hand over his mouth. "Um, sorry! I'll shut up now."

Sawamura chuckled, but as the fourth wave arrived, Azumane shut the simulation down. Without the noise of the mobile suit, Shouyou could hear him breathing hard.

"Not much point in trying to take on the fourth wave with just a beam sabre," Sawamura commented. "Though it might have been fun to see you try, Asahi."

"For you, maybe," Azumane said weakly, still catching his breath. "I really hate flying solo, even if it's just a simulation."

"I know," Sawamura said softly. "But that was some fancy flying there. And sorry for intruding, by the way; I got fed up of listening to Tanaka trying to explain things to Haiba. They might as well have been speaking different languages." He cleared his throat. "What did you think, Hinata?"

"I thought it was amazing!" Shouyou said instantly. "I wish I could fight like that. But, uh, was there some kind of malfunction when the third wave arrived?"

A long pause followed his question. "I'll review the log and check," Sawamura said. "You recovered quickly, whatever it was."

"Yeah!" Shouyou agreed. "I think without that, you would have stood a decent chance against the fourth wave."

"I don't know about that," Azumane said, sighing. "And I had an advantage, going second — I knew what they were going to do, after all."

Shouyou hummed thoughtfully. "Sure, knowing what an enemy is going to do helps, but you still have to be able to stop them. I see what you mean about taking time to line up your shots, by the way. But why did you move away from that second guy?"

"Which one? The one attacking the colony?" Sawamura asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh," Azumane said, surprised. "That was to keep the colony clear of the one shooting at me," he explained. "If I flew right at my target, if he missed me, my attacker would hit the colony. But by flying away, I could get a clean shot from the side and wouldn't be flying over the colony."

"You had time to think all that?" Shouyou asked, astonished. "Nishinoya was right, Azumane. You really are awesome, you know that?"

Azumane's only response was to sputter and trip over his words while Sawamura laughed and laughed. "There you have it, Asahi," Sawamura said once he'd calmed down somewhat. "An unbiased assessment."

"Hardly unbiased!" Azumane protested.

Sawamura chuckled some more. "Hinata, why don't you try once more, see if you can put what you've learned into practice? I'm sure Asahi will be happy to offer you some more tips now that you've joined his fan club."

"I don't have a fan club!"

"Nishinoya would beg to differ," Sawamura said smugly. "Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Good work, both of you."

"Please don't tell Noya about this," Azumane begged desperately. "He really will found a club. There'll be badges and Asahi appreciation meetings and all sorts..."

Shouyou stifled his laughter as best he could. "I promise, Azumane." Then he tapped in some commands to restart the simulation. "Shall we go again, then?"

Azumane sighed. "Alright, one more time."

 

* * *

 

When yet another railgun shot slammed through his Defender, plunging his simulator pod into darkness, Kei let out a string of curses he'd never utter within earshot of other people.

He was off his game.

There were several likely explanations. The most obvious was preoccupation: he'd been trying his best to stay abreast of the deteriorating political conditions, both on Miyagi and across the Earth sphere, and the outlook wasn't good. In his view, outbreak of full-scale civil war was only a matter of time. There was also the small matter of someone nearly blowing them all up with a bomb a few days earlier.

The second possible explanation was his discomfort with the nature of the battles they were simulating: direct combat against other Federation forces. It was hard to refuse to participate when it was merely training, but simulated or not, battling "friendly" mobile suits still didn't sit right with him. So far it had only been defensive battles, yes, but so far the simulations had only involved their Defenders, so that was expected. When they started working with the rest of the pilots again, Kei was sure that would change.

The third possible explanation was the most unpalatable: rather than merely under-performing, he was in fact being outperformed by the other Defender pilots.

With a long sigh, Kei popped open the simulator pod. He paused to readjust his glasses and acclimatise to the brighter light of the _Nekoma'_ s flight simulator room and then floated over to the monitors to watch the end of the exercise. One of the two Nekoma rookies was already there — Shibayama, if he remembered the man's diffident introduction correctly — and the rookie offered a sympathetic smile as Kei approached.

"That was an unlucky shot," he said, presumably referring to the rail gun round that would have vaporised Kei had it been a real battle. "You were doing well up until then though."

Kei clamped himself to the deck and stared down at him from his massive height advantage. "I'm glad you think so."

Shibayama's smile faltered and he returned his attention to the monitors, swallowing. "Uh, looks like we're still going to lose though."

He wasn't wrong, unfortunately. They'd spent the morning repeatedly attempting one particular exercise and they'd failed every time so far. It was a variation on a classic escort simulation in which a group of mobile suits were tasked with protecting a vulnerable hospital ship from repeated waves of attackers. In its original form, it was not a no-win scenario, but it was notoriously difficult: assailants came from multiple directions, outnumbering the escort, and any victory invariably came with a high cost.

Since the training was only for the six Defender pilots, the escort in the version Commander Kuroo had cooked up featured only Defenders. With very little offensive firepower of their own, that meant there was no easy way for them to even the odds. The goal was supposedly to buy enough time for the hospital ship to escape using purely defensive tactics, but 30 minutes against those odds was an eternity. It didn't help that one of Kuroo's modifications had evidently been to have each wave adapt to their defence, which meant they couldn't rely on experience of previous rounds to guide them. The timing of each wave differed, as did the composition and even the numbers involved, and no matter what they tried, in the end they inevitably got overwhelmed.

In this latest attempt, they were just passing the 20 minute mark. The other Nekoma rookie, Inuoka, was badly damaged and virtually useless in his current state, but he hung close to the hospital ship to act as a sacrificial, last-ditch barrier if need be; brave, but not very effective. In fact if anything he was a liability, because the other pilots were attempting to protect him as well as their real target. He should have just ejected and given the others one less thing to worry about.

The other three pilots, however, were all operational and doing their best to cover the ship (and Inuoka). The smokescreen and minefield were both more or less dispersed, but Noya was zipping around firing more rockets — mainly chaff and beam-scattering dust — to disrupt the enemy attacks, while Yaku stayed back and intercepted whatever got through with his I-Field. Kuroo was furthest from the ship, wielding his beam sabre and his I-Field like a sword and shield in an attempt to cut down the enemy Bombardiers, who posed the largest threat. Like everyone else, he was flying a Defender, rather than his usual Guardian; it was a pity, since had they been able to draw upon a Guardian's long-range firepower, things might have gone differently.

Because despite all their efforts, they failed yet again. First an Avenger slipped a particle beam past Yaku, knocking out the hospital ship's engines, then a large missile volley overwhelmed their point defences and engulfed both the ship and the hapless Inuoka in a dazzling fireball.

"Damn," Shibayama muttered, clenching his fists.

The four remaining simulator pods cracked open, revealing the pilots within. "We were so close!" Inuoka complained, thumping the side of his pod. "And I can't believe I got killed right at the end, too."

"It's always a tough scenario," Yaku said with a sigh. With a click, he unfastened his harness and climbed out of his pod. "We started off okay, but when that third wave arrived we just weren't ready for them."

Noya was already out of his pod and floating towards Yaku. "But your interception was top notch!" he said. "It had to be, what, 95% effective? More?" He drifted past Yaku, too far from the deck to anchor himself, but instead of sailing completely by, he deftly pushed off from Yaku's pod to land right beside him. It was the sort of surprisingly acrobatic manoeuvre that he seemed to be capable of pulling off effortlessly, without conscious thought. Kei would never admit it to a soul, let alone to the diminutive man in question, but he couldn't help be a little envious of how graceful Noya was in zero-g — and, for that matter, in his mobile suit.

Shibayama tapped a few commands into the monitor controls. "91.7%," he said, referring to the number of incoming shots Yaku had successfully blocked: 22 out of 24. It was a somewhat misleading figure, since it only included shots that were within the interception envelope of Yaku's suit — i.e., the ones he'd positioned himself to block, and not ones coming from elsewhere — but it was still an undeniably impressive result.

Contrary to the belief of many other pilots (especially Avenger pilots, Kei had found), being a good Defender pilot was not just about simply getting your I-Field between your target and its assailants; you also needed impeccable timing, since you had to activate the I-Field for as little time possible unless you wanted it to burn out. You also needed to be able to perform rapid final adjustments to make sure the comparatively small field would actually intercept the incoming shots. And then there were the additional challenges of shooting down incoming missiles, which would fly straight through an I-Field, and dodging railgun rounds, which were essentially unblockable.

"Okay, 92%," Noya said, nodding enthusiastically. "But that's still awesome! I struggle to get out of the 80s."

Which from anyone else would be a humble-brag of sorts, but one of the most annoying things about Noya was his sincerity.

Yaku obviously realised this too because he was blushing furiously and edging away from Noya. "I suppose I've just had lots of practice."

"Can you give me some tips?" Noya said, closing in even as Yaku backed up. "Maybe go over some replays and tell me what I could do better?" He reminded Kei way too much of an over-eager dog greeting a new visitor to its home, crowding them against the wall.

Commander Kuroo came to Yaku's rescue, clearing his throat and clamping Noya to the deck with a firm hand on his shoulder, but the smirk he aimed at Yaku suggested that he was doing so only because it was a favour he expected to be repaid in future. "That's why we're all here, hotshot. To learn from each other. But first thing's first — let's go over the mission."

He let go of Noya — who gave Yaku a disappointed glance — and swept his keen gaze around the simulator room, briefly studying each of the other Defender pilots in turn. Kei had to suppress a shudder when that piercing stare landed on him.

Kei prided himself on being able to size people up quickly. He was observant and astute and could usually figure out the best words to put someone down within a minute of meeting them. But Nekoma's commander was a tricky one to figure out; he could be flippant or even dorky one moment, serious and thoughtful the next, and then a second later he could be slinging sharp-tongued jibes left and right with a precision that impressed even Kei.

And whenever Kuroo's attention focused on Kei, one thing above all flashed through his mind like an alert siren:

_Danger danger danger!_

Kuroo completed his survey of the room, tapped a finger to his mouth, and then returned his attention to Tsukishima. "You, Glasses Guy," he said, grinning like a shark presented with the scent of fresh blood in the water. "Where do you think we all fucked up in that last attempt?"

Kei swallowed, trying his hardest to maintain his composure. He managed to keep his expression neutral, but he could feel a droplet of sweat trickling down the side of his face. "As Lieutenant Yaku said," he replied, "we weren't ready for that third wave. They came sooner than we thought and from an unexpected direction."

"Oh? Unexpected how?" Kuroo asked, his grin broadening. Kei wasn't sure whether that boded well or not.

But if Kuroo wanted to test him, Kei would play along. He turned to the monitors, reaching past Shibayama and tapping in a few commands to call up the relevant moment of the replay and display an overview of their positions. "Here," he said, pointing at the viewpanel. "All six of us were on the opposite side of the hospital ship, dealing with the earlier targets."

"So we were," Kuroo said, nodding thoughtfully as though this was all news to him. "What do you think we should have done instead then?"

Kei offered a minute shrug. "Not that."

Both Noya and Inuoka laughed aloud, while Shibayama emitted a sort of quiet, strangled snort beside him. Even Yaku grinned, but Kuroo maintained his thoughtful expression as though Kei hadn't even spoken.

"Humour me," he said once the others had controlled themselves. "If you were in command, what orders would you have given?"

Kei glanced at the monitors again, mostly to buy himself a few seconds of thinking time. "Keep at least one mobile suit close to the hospital ship at all times as backstop. Don't let the enemy draw the rest of us too far away. Deploy smoke around the ship, to obscure it from every direction, as well as between it and the attackers. Use decoys to lure more of the incoming fire away."

Kuroo's smile returned, wider than ever. "I see."

Noya had floated up during the exchange and was now perched on top of one of the simulator pods like some kind of delinquent gargoyle. "That's pretty clever, Tsukki. Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"Don't call me Tsukki," Kei told him flatly, before unnecessarily straightening his glasses. "The scenario is likely impossible anyway. Each fresh wave reacts to our tactics and adapts accordingly; the better we do, the harder it gets. And without any real offensive firepower, there's not much we can do to even the odds."

"We got close, though!" Inuoka insisted. "I bet if we tried your ideas, we could pull it off."

Kei rolled his eyes. "By keeping the defensive perimeter closer to the ship, we increase our ability to protect it from multiple directions, but also allow our opponents to converge on us while simultaneously constraining our own mobility. Those who move forward to intercept would be targeted first, and once they were dead, the others in the backstop would follow — it's just a matter of time. Then the enemy can take out the hospital ship at their leisure, since it's slow and unarmed."

An awkward silence followed his prediction, filled only by the hum of the machinery and a nervous cough from Shibayama.

Yaku broke it first. "So why would you give those orders if it they weren't going to work anyway?" he asked sharply, frowning at Kei.

"That is a good question," Kuroo asked; unlike Yaku, he was visibly amused by Kei's response. "Anyone else care to speculate?"

"Because it's worth a try!" Inuoka said hopefully. "Better than doing nothing, right?"

Kuroo gave him a nod and a half-smile. "Enthusiasm only gets you so far, Inuoka. I imagine Tsukki had something else in mind."

While Kei ground his teeth at the use of his childhood nickname, Shibayama raised his hand. "Yes, Shibayama?" Kuroo asked. "And I keep telling you, you don't need to raise your hand. This isn't a classroom."

_Could have fooled me, professor_ , Kei thought to himself.

"Um, the mission objective is to protect the hospital ship, right?" Shibayama said. "So even if we all got killed, Tsukishima's ideas would keep the ship alive for longer, I think?"

Kei gave the shorter plot a curious glance, sucking his teeth thoughtfully. Maybe Shibayama wasn't as useless as he looked.

Kuroo must have agreed, because he favoured Shibayama with a wink. "That's a good analysis, Shibayama. It's always important to keep the mission objective in mind, after all." While Shibayama preened beside him, Kuroo switched his gaze back to Kei. "Do you by any chance know the origin of this particular scenario, Tsukki?"

Kei blinked, stiffening slightly. _How...?_ "Yes," he admitted.

"Would you care to illuminate everyone else?" Kuroo said, his shark-like grin now wide enough to reveal teeth.

Clearing his throat, Kei explained. "The scenario is based on an actual event from the One Year War," he said. "The hospital ship was actually a troop transport, but instead of soldiers it was carrying refugees. When it sent out its distress signal, a small team of mobile suits came to its defence."

"And?"

"Most of the mobile suits were destroyed, but they held out long enough that reinforcements were able to join them. The transport escaped intact when the enemy was forced to withdraw."

Noya groaned, flapping his arms around in irritation as though he was trying to take flight. "So you were cheating, you lanky asshole! You already knew how it really happened, so you knew what we should have done."

"There aren't any reinforcements in the scenario though," Yaku said, apparently confused. "There's just four waves of enemies. Kill them all or make sure the hospital ship survives for 30 minutes and you win."

Kuroo shot a knowing look at Kei and then smirked over his shoulder at Yaku. "And why do you think it stops at the 30 minute mark, Morisuke?"

"Oh..." Yaku scratched at his neck and chuckled weakly. "Yeah, I get it now. Sorry."

A titter of accompanying laughter ran around the room, but Kuroo didn't join in. Instead he drifted over to the console, joining Kei and Shibayama, and tapped in a few commands to reset the simulation. Then he turned to Kei, looming closer until he was just within Kei's personal space: not quite an invasion, but definitely parking on the border with an army of tanks.

"So, since you know what really happened and have some good ideas about how to win, how about you lead the team in the next round, Tsukki?" he said, in the sort of sly purr a panther might use if it could talk to its helpless prey. "Unless of course you don't think you're up to the challenge?"

Kei forced himself to stand firm. This close, with hooded eyes and that deranged grin, Kuroo looked like a serial killer. "My knowledge of the original event is meaningless, sir, since you've modified the scenario so much," he said. "Those are Federation mobile suits just like ours we're fighting, not Zeon, and their numbers and tactics are very different." He pasted on a polite smile of his own and met Kuroo's gaze head on. "Besides, surely you would be better equipped than I to know how best to beat the scenario, Lieutenant Commander. Unless of course it isn't even possible to win...?"

Kuroo's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second but his grin didn't falter and he didn't back off. "You won't know whether it's impossible unless you try, will you?" he said sweetly.

"Wait, did you really make it impossible?" Noya demanded. Kuroo ignored him, his eyes fixed on Kei's.

Feeling as though there was an oxygen leak somewhere in the room, Kei took a step back and looked away. He kept telling himself that it wasn't backing down, not really, but the heat of shame rising past his collar and the buzzing in his ears told the truth no matter what his brain said. "If the scenario is unbeatable, then what's the point?"

Kuroo cocked his head, also taking a step back. His smile had faded, replaced by a slight frown. "Would it make any difference if, instead of a hospital ship, it was Miyagi colony?"

Kei's breath caught in his throat. "Would it be any less impossible if it were, sir?"

"No."

"Then whoever leads the team is irrelevant," he said. "The outcome will be the same either way."

The buzzing in his ears was getting louder, rising along with his heart rate. What had he done to offend this guy? Why was Kuroo picking on him all of a sudden? Kei had been doing everything he'd been told to do, no matter how stupid he thought it was. Or was that it? Was Kuroo just annoyed that someone had seen through his sadistic little game...?

Yaku cleared his throat and started to walk over. "Guys, this isn't —"

"Tell me, Tsukishima, do you only fight battles you think you can win?" Kuroo interrupted, his frown deepening.

Struggling to keep his expression neutral, Kei shook his head. "Fighting a battle you know you'll lose is a waste of time and lives. It's irresponsible."

Kuroo nodded slowly, turning away to stare at the monitor display as he ran a hand lazily through his ridiculously unkempt hair. "Just as well those pilots back during the One Year War didn't think like you, or all those refugees would be dead by now. It was pure luck those reinforcements arrived, you know — they didn't pick up the distress signal until nearly too late. The escort didn't know they were coming."

Shibayama cleared his throat next to them; Kei had forgotten he was even there. "Oh, wow, would you look at the time?" he said. "It's lunchtime already! Maybe we should take a break?"

"Good idea," Yaku agreed quickly, coming to a stop nearby. "Let's stop for now and give it another go after lunch." Giving Kuroo a sharp look, he added, "And if you're that bored of being in charge, Kuroo, I'd be happy to take over for the day and show you how it's done."

Kuroo laughed and put the simulator system into standby. "Alright, sure. Admiral Yaku can have his day in the spotlight. But let's eat first."

Kei glanced at the door, weighing up his next words. "If it's alright with you, Lieutenant Commander, I'd like to return to the _Karasuno_ for lunch. I promised to meet up with some of the others there." It wasn't even really a lie; Tadashi would probably be expecting him anyway.

Kuroo shrugged. "If that's what you'd prefer."

Kei turned his back on him and headed for the exit. He felt Kuroo's eyes on his back right up until the moment the hatch closed.

 

* * *

 

Most pilots hated being on standby. It mainly involved sitting around waiting for a few hours just in case anything happens. Exactly what that meant depended on the readiness level; at the highest level, it could involve being strapped into the cockpit with your mobile suit standing on the catapult, ready to launch at a moment's notice. More commonly it meant you were dressed in your pilot suit and waiting around somewhere near the hangar, ready to launch within a few minutes.

Tobio didn't particularly mind standby duty, though he would have preferred actually being out on patrol instead. It was usually just as uneventful but at least it meant he was flying.

But the round-the-clock patrols had been stood down since the feared attack by loyalist warships hadn't materialised. Instead, at least two pilots from one of the warships were to be on standby at all times, able to go out and investigate anything suspicious that the sensor buoy network might pick up. That morning, with all of the Avenger and Defender pilots undergoing training, the first two hour shift had fallen to Tobio and Kinoshita.

After changing into their pilot suits, Kinoshita had wandered off to talk to the mechanics about some minor problems with his Bombardier. Left to his own devices, Tobio had instead opted to wait inside his Conductor. He could run some diagnostics and maybe a simulation or two, or just relax in the quiet solitude and catch up on other work with his datapad.

While the Conductor was churning through a full systems check, he added some notes to his log —  he always kept a thorough record of the state of his mobile suit — and then checked out the latest bulletin, containing whatever news or information the ship's senior officers thought relevant to the crew that day.

One headline caught his eye immediately, and he tapped it without even meaning to.

It was a statement issued by his mother in her role as a fleet commander over at Luna II. Talking about the progress of the "pacification" of the unruly colonies to "restore the rule of law" and how more ships had been dispatched to hunt down "rebellious military units". He shivered, the air around him seeming to chill as he read through it.

Did she know he was part of one of those rebellious units now? They'd barely spoken since the academy, but it's not like they spoke much more before that either, and yet she'd always kept tabs on him. In a way, he was glad communications were still so difficult — otherwise he would probably have already received an angry message expressing her further disappointment in him... or worse.

Tobio had wondered, back when he'd finally got his orders to report to the _Karasuno_ , whether she'd pulled some strings for him. He'd been waiting a long time for a piloting assignment. But the _Karasuno_ wasn't part of the 2nd Fleet; it was in a separate task force altogether, and Captain Ukai didn't strike him as being the sort of person who might owe his mother a favour. Tobio preferred to think he'd got the posting on his own merits, such as they were, which had been one of the reasons he'd decided to stay aboard when Ukai had given everyone his ultimatum — even though he knew his mother would disapprove. (Or maybe, he sometimes thought in his darker moments, _because_ he knew she would disapprove.)

Shaking his head, he switched off his datapad and occupied himself by running further checks on his Conductor instead. He was here now and he had his pilot duties to carry out, and that was all that mattered — and all he wanted.

The two hours didn't exactly fly by, but Tobio kept busy enough not to get bored. The next standby shift was Nekoma's, so after changing back into his uniform, he headed back to his cabin. Half his mind was working through the list of chores he had to get done and the other half was preoccupied by trying to decide what to have for lunch later, so when he opened the hatch to his quarters only to find a body lying on his bed, it took him a moment to react.

"What the fuck?!" he yelled, jumping back out of the doorway in alarm. His heart hammered against his ribs and he wished he had his sidearm with him, but then the smell hit his nose — like the world's sweatiest gym clothes had been left to stew in a vat of garbage. "Who the hell are you?" he asked, trying not to gag. He paused, staring, but the figure didn't respond — they didn't even move. They were face-down in a bulky white pressure suit, limbs dangling over the edge of the bed. Were they asleep? Or unconscious... maybe even dead?

His lungs stopped working. He clutched at his chest, fingers digging into the fabric of his uniform, as he remembered red splashed across his academy dorm. What if—

_No. Don't panic._

He took a few hesitant steps towards the figure — holding his breath against the stench — and poked them in the leg with the toe of his boot. "Hello...?" No response. Cautiously, he circled around towards the open visor of the helmet and crouched, trying to see who it was.

And then he realised: it was a training dummy. The one they used for EVA rescue training, commonly known as "man overboard" training. He wasn't sure why it smelled like the devil's armpit, but at least it wasn't a dead body.

What the hell was it doing in his cabin?!

Breathing through his mouth as much as possible and shaky with relief, he tried to haul the thing off his bed. It had to weigh a ton! He tried to lift it by grabbing it around the chest, but it flopped around like it was a pressure suit filled with rocks, whacking him in the face with one lumbering arm. And the closer he got the worse the smell became; it almost made his eyes water. Abandoning that attempt, he grabbed the arm instead and heaved until he managed to drag it onto the floor.

A muffled snort of laughter came from the doorway and he turned to find Kinoshita stood there, his nose pinched shut with one hand while he held his datapad in the other, recording the scene.

Shock and confusion quickly gave way to anger. "Did you do this?!" he demanded.

Kinoshita grinned. "Hey, don't be too mad," he said. "It's traditional for one of the rookies to meet the Old Man of the Stars after their first week."

Tobio swallowed back his rage, every muscle in his body tensing up. "It fucking _stinks_!"

"Best close the visor," Kinoshita agreed, still holding his nose. "We added a few extra ingredients to its suit. And, uh, maybe stay out of your cabin for the rest of the day to let the air clear."

Slamming the dummy's visor shut, Tobio coughed and backed away from it. His face burned with fury and embarrassment, mixing with the noxious air to create a poisonous, sickening feeling in his stomach. Reluctantly, he bent down to grab it by the boot and started hauling it, inch by inch, toward the hatch.

Kinoshita put away his datapad. "Careful, Kageyama. That thing weighs more than 100kg — don't strain your back. Here, I'll give you a hand."

Together, they managed to manhandle it outside into the corridor, but then Kinoshita explained that the dummy was kept in a storage compartment near one of the airlocks — which meant dragging the damn thing all the way to the lift and then towing it through the zero-g sections of the ship. They got yelled at by one operations officer when, in their impatience, they lost their grip on it and sent it flying along a corridor, but finally they reached the storage locker and stuffed it inside.

And the whole way there, Tobio relived the moment of humiliation again and again. No doubt Kinoshita would share the recording with the others. He'd be a laughing stock by lunchtime.

"It's only a prank, okay?" Kinoshita said, after he'd shut the hatch and caught his breath. He must have seen the expression on Tobio's face, because his grin had vanished and he'd paled slightly. "It's just a bit of harmless fun, that's all."

"So why me?" he snapped, before coughing again. That terrible stink was lodged in his nostrils somehow. Or maybe it was clinging to his uniform?

When Kinoshita's only response was to blush and shrug helplessly, Tobio kicked off from the deck and headed back. Now he'd have to turn the A/C in his cabin up to max, get a fresh uniform, wash the old one, probably change his bedding too, and find somewhere to camp out for the rest of the day.

Damn them all. It was just like before.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Tobio spent the rest of the morning in the gym. If he was going to have to get changed anyway, he might as well make the most of it, and the exertion helped to burn off his anger and frustration. Even so, he was still fuming when he entered the pilots' mess to grab some lunch. Only Yamaguchi was there so far, and judging by the sheepish grin on his face, he'd already heard what had happened.

Ignoring him, Tobio got some food and went to sit down in a corner by himself. The Avenger pilots would probably be returning from their training soon and he wanted to be done before they all arrived.

Unfortunately, his timing was off. Ennoshita and Narita arrived first, chatting together, but Tobio kept his eyes on his food. He considered abandoning the rest — he'd eaten most of it — when a loud yell made him jump.

"Oi! Kageyama!"

He froze with a morsel of food halfway to his mouth. Hinata was standing just inside the door to the pilot's mess, pointing at Tobio accusingly, while Azumane stood behind him with his eyebrows raised in confusion.

Great. Just what he needed — an angry shrimp screeching at him. He was sure _Hinata_ would never find a stinky training dummy in his quarters; everyone liked him.

Hinata came over and slammed his hands down on the opposite side of the table, leaning on them as he confronted Tobio. "Why didn't you come visit me? Everyone else did! Even Stingyshima!"

"Visit you...?" Tobio said. His mind was stuck on the training dummy, so it took him a few seconds to realise Hinata was talking about medbay. "Oh. Weren't they only keeping you there under observation? I heard it wasn't anything serious."

"I nearly got sucked out into space, Kageyama!"

Tobio shrugged, growing uncomfortably aware of the other pilots staring at him. So much for getting out of there without further embarrassment. "But you didn't. And you're fine now, right? So what's the problem?"

With a growl of frustration, Hinata flopped down into the seat opposite. "We're supposed to be teammates, Kageyama! I would have gone to visit you if you were in medbay."

"I wouldn't care," Tobio replied, washing his food down with the last of his drink. "It's not as if it would make me heal any faster."

Astonished, Hinata leaned back, staring at him.

Tobio clamped down hard on his growing embarrassment and started collecting up his dishes, intending to leave. He did feel a _little_ guilty, but he'd only told Hinata the truth. Visiting Hinata would have wasted both their time — all they did was argue anyway, and it's not like they had anything to talk about outside their training. Besides, Tobio had kept volunteering to go out on patrols; he didn't have time to go visiting anyone even if he'd wanted to.

"Fine," Hinata finally said, standing back up. "Whatever." After collecting some food, he went to sit at a table with Azumane, though he kept on shooting angry glares at Tobio. Azumane spoke to him quietly, maybe trying to calm him down.

Tobio tried to ignore them and avoided everyone's gaze as he cleared away his dishes and headed for the exit. He was at his limit, his heart racing almost as fast as his thoughts were, and he just wanted to get out of there before anything else went wrong.

He _almost_ made it.

"Can I have a word, Ensign?" Ennoshita asked, intercepting him a metre from the hatch.

Tobio sighed and nodded, letting Ennoshita lead him out into the corridor. They walked in silence, following the curve of the deck until they turned a corner and stopped not far from the briefing room. Unsure of what to expect, he stood straight with his hands behind his back and braced himself.

Ennoshita let him stand like that for nearly a minute, during which an uncharacteristic urge to fidget nervously became almost irresistible. Finally, Ennoshita rolled his eyes and let out a grunt of frustration.

"You don't even know why you're here, do you?" he said.

"Uh... because you wanted to speak to me, sir?" Tobio replied. Was it about the dummy? Or something about the training?

Ennoshita narrowed his eyes, almost squinting. "I don't know what's worse — the possibility that you're messing with me or the idea that you could be genuinely that clueless." He brushed his fingers loosely through his hair and sighed. "For your sake, I'll assume the latter. Listen, Kageyama. I know you and Hinata don't get along very well, but with everything that's going on, we can't afford any falling out. You're going to have to work together, and what's more you're going to have to _rely_ on each other. We all do."

"I can work with Hinata," he said, frowning. Hinata might be annoying but he did have some skill, after all. Tobio was sure they'd be able to get the hang of the Quickshot eventually.

Judging by the way Ennoshita's jaw muscles twitched, that wasn't the right response. "But can he work with _you?_ " he said. "Working as part of a team — especially in your role, coordinating everyone in battle — means you have to take into account the needs of others. Hinata nearly died saving all our lives, including yours, and while he seems as chipper as before, I'm sure he could use some reassurance and would like to know we're all grateful. It doesn't matter if you would rather everyone ignore you if you were in his position — he was the one who got hurt, not you."

Tobio considered that for a moment.

He knew, intellectually, that being a combat coordinator meant taking into account the condition of the resources at his disposal and adjusting his plans accordingly — whether that meant compensating for a mobile suit that had suffered damage or accounting for pilots with varying levels of skill. It also included making allowances for a pilot's mental state as well; something he wasn't good at, but nevertheless recognised the necessity of doing.

But that was all only relevant inside the cockpit. Ennoshita was talking about making those same adjustments the rest of the time, too. The thought made him scrunch up his face in dismay.

As a general rule, people didn't like him very much. Tobio had always figured he could live with that as long as they still followed his instructions when in battle. But if that wasn't enough...

Ennoshita folded his arms. "Are you even listening to me?" he asked impatiently. "It's not rocket science, Kageyama. You shouldn't need to think about it for five minutes."

"You're saying I need to get people to like me?" he ventured hesitantly.

"Not necessarily," Ennoshita said after studying him a moment, perhaps trying to gauge whether or not Tobio was being sincere. "It would certainly help. But you do need people to trust you. You must see the importance of that, surely?"

Tobio nodded. He knew far too well what happened when pilots lost faith in their coordinator. "I should probably apologise."

"That would be a good start," Ennoshita replied, his tone a mixture of relief and exasperation. "And there's no time like the present."

"What, right now?" It was one thing to be made to apologise, but quite another to do it publicly.

Ennoshita took his elbow and towed him back towards the mess. "Yes, now."

More pilots had arrived by the time they returned. Hinata was still clearly angry, despite Azumane's attempts to calm him, and Tanaka had joined Narita. Tsukishima had probably just arrived, because he was over by the serving hatch, tapping in his requests.

The moment he entered, everyone fell silent and turned to stare at him. It was like being lit up by six different enemies at once.

Ennoshita cleared his throat meaningfully.

Fixing his eyes just above Hinata's head, Tobio cleared his throat. "I apologise," he said, the words coming out stilted and awkward. "I should have visited you."

Hinata scowled back at him like a ginger thundercloud. "Are you saying that just because Lieutenant Ennoshita ordered you to?"

Tobio winced, but shook his head. "I'm apologising because I was wrong. I want you to be able to trust me."

"Trust?!" Tsukishima exclaimed, startling them all. " _Trust_? You seriously expect any of us to want to trust _you_?"

Tsukishima's incredulous outburst had drawn everyone's attention to him rather than Tobio, but Tsukishima himself was oblivious: he was too busy staring at Tobio like he was a lump of raw sewage that had somehow gained the ability to walk and talk.

"What the hell is your problem, Tsukishima?" Tanaka demanded, glaring at him. "He's trying to apologise, dammit!"

It was only then that Tobio realised that Tsukishima _knew_. Suddenly all of his insults, his barbs, made more sense.

He _knew_.

"Tsukki..." Yamaguchi said quietly, tugging on Tsukishima's sleeve. "Please stop."

It was too late. Even as Tobio lurched sideways, grabbing onto the hatch for support while his world turned upside down, Hinata spoke up. "What are you two talking about?"

"People who trust Kageyama get killed," Tsukishima said, the words slicing into him like knives. "He's nothing but a cruel king ruling over his own petty kingdom, a tin-pot dictator who expects people to follow his orders even if it costs them their lives." He stared at Tobio, merciless. "Isn't that right, your majesty?"

Tobio shook his head, desperate to deny it, but the words jammed in his throat and his hearing got drowned out by the pounding of his pulse. It was like his skull had suffered explosive decompression and his brain and all of his thoughts had been sucked out into the void. He squeezed his eyes shut, reeling.

"Tsukishima —" Ennoshita began uncertainly, but Tsukishima cut him off.

"Tell them, o great king. Your subjects deserve the truth. If you're so keen on _trust_ , tell them what happened." His knives sank deeper, forcing the breath from Tobio's lungs.

"Tsukki!" Yamaguchi said, louder this time. "Shut up!"

"Will someone explain what the fuck is going on?" Tanaka demanded.

"Um, I think we should all calm down a little..." Azumane said, apprehensively. "I'm sure whatever Tsukishima is talking about is... uh..."

Tobio swallowed, moistening his throat, and opened his eyes to meet Tsukishima's smug stare — his eyebrow raised expectantly, his mouth twisted into a vicious smirk. Yamaguchi was tugging at his arm, giving Tobio alarmed, apologetic glances; he probably knew too.

He looked around the room, seeing but not hearing. Ennoshita was hesitating, watching Tobio with concern; Narita and Tanaka were looking back and forth between Tobio and Tsukishima like they were watching a particularly confusing game of tennis; Azumane had wide eyes and was chewing his bottom lip as he fumbled in his pocket for his datapad.

But Hinata was unusually still, his head cocked as he studied Tobio with that creepy expressionless gaze he showed every now and then.

_You do need people to trust you_ , Ennoshita had said. As if there was any chance of that now.

Tobio cleared his throat, focusing on Hinata. "I killed someone," he confessed quietly, and his hearing returned just in time for the room to fall completely silent. Hinata's mouth dropped open. "Another cadet. It was an accident."

And then he turned around and walked out the hatch, because having everyone stare at him reminded him far too much of what it was like back then, with the inquest, and the blame, and everything that came afterwards. Stares gave way to muttering, muttering led to insults, insults led to people refusing to fly with him, or spraying red paint around his room, or scrawling MURDERER over his name on his locker.

Nobody was stupid enough to confront him directly; they knew who his parents were, knew he could defend himself if it came to that. But even so, they found ways to make their feelings — and their lack of trust — painfully clear.

Tobio wasn't really paying attention to where he was going; he just knew he had to get out of there. But there was something crumbling inside him, deep in his chest, as though the ground was falling away behind him, faster and faster, and no matter how fast he ran it would catch him in the end.

What the fuck was he going to do now? At least back then he'd had a goal, an objective to focus on; he could block the rest of it out, take it one day at a time, and hope things would be better once he graduated. Things were bad for a while after that, as everyone else he knew received assignments and he was left to wait and wait, but then when he'd received word of his transfer to the _Karasuno_ , he let himself hope once again.

But now? With all this martial law bullshit going on? He couldn't just put in for a transfer. And what would he do, if he couldn't be a pilot? That was the only thing he wanted, the only thing he'd _ever_ wanted.

Without that, he was nothing.

He climbed up from the gravity block, entering the zero-g area of the ship, wondering what would happen to him. Maybe Captain Ukai would put him to work somewhere else on the ship, but it wouldn't be long before everyone knew. Ships were small, enclosed communities; rumour travelled fast. Maybe it would be better to leave, to go into the colony, try to find something to do there instead. Maybe fly shuttles or something.

But he was a mobile suit pilot. It wasn't just his job; it's who he _was_. Flying shuttles wasn't even comparable.

Unless...

Maybe it wasn't too late to change his mind. If he could find his way to a Loyalist colony, if he got down on his knees and begged his mother, maybe they'd let him keep flying mobile suits.

Tobio found himself at the starboard hangar, right back where he'd been before his whole day turned to shit. The route was so ingrained now that he'd followed it on autopilot. And the hangar was quiet for a change; only a couple of technicians floating about, the rest presumably gone for lunch. He stared up at his Conductor, a white number 9 emblazoned proudly on its chest, slumbering silently between Hinata's Avenger and Tsukishima's Defender.

He could at least say goodbye to it, right?

Settling into the cockpit, he ran his hands over the familiar controls — controls he would recognise in his sleep — and pressed his eyes shut, willing himself to hold it together, to shut everything out just a little longer. If it was to be the last time he sat in this mobile suit, he didn't want to mar it with tears.

 


	10. Beginning of a Duo

"I killed someone," Kageyama said, staring straight at Shouyou as if speaking solely to him. "Another cadet. It was an accident."

Then he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving stunned silence in his wake.

And then everyone spoke at once.

" _Tsukki!_ "

"Someone better start explaining, _right now_."

"He _killed_ someone?"

"It's not like it was a state secret. There were news articles on it. Do none of you read?"

"What's your problem, you lanky prick?! He's supposed to be your teammate!"

Shouyou turned slowly in his seat, watching the room erupt into chaos. It felt distant somehow, as though he were watching it on a viewscreen rather than actually being present. Even their voices sounded tinny in his ears, making it hard to focus on any of them.

But there was one voice he could hear with perfect clarity, echoing inside his skull.

_I killed someone._

In Shouyou's admittedly limited experience, Kageyama didn't have a wide range of expressions. Most of them were some variation of grouchy, and the rare times he ever smiled, Kageyama looked like he was about to gleefully stab someone. It would be hard to find someone that better fitted the stereotypical image of a murderer: tall, dark, always angry, prone to casual violence. The kind of person about whom smug neighbours would say, when interviewed after a killing spree, "I always knew he was a bad egg. Always kept himself to himself. Creepy."

But when he'd spoken those words, Kageyama had worn an entirely new expression: haunted. Stricken. Broken, even.

"— read the articles if you're so interested," Tsukishima was saying. He was surrounded now, penned into the corner by Yamaguchi, Tanaka, and Ennoshita, while Azumane hovered a few steps back with Narita. Shouyou was the only one still sitting.

"No," Ennoshita said, his arms folded. "You do not get to say what you said without some kind of explanation."

Tsukishima resettled his glasses on his nose and sighed in defeat. "It happened during a live training exercise," he said slowly, as though talking to a classroom full of dim-witted children. "Kageyama was coordinating. You know how arrogant he is — demanding that everyone live up to his ridiculous standards — and he forced one of the other cadets into an impossible situation. Instead of helping her while she was in distress, he insisted she carry out his instructions. She hit some debris at high speed, wrecking her mobile suit, and died shortly afterwards." With a sneer, he added, "We're all just tools to Kageyama. Whether we live or die doesn't matter as long as we obey."

Shouyou stiffened, his back straightening as though someone had stabbed needles into each vertebrae. Little flashes of Kageyama yelling at him during their Quickshot training played through his mind.

"I can't believe you, Tsukki," Yamaguchi said, shaking his head incredulously. "You _know_ it's not that simple. What is wrong with you?" Disgusted, he turned his back on his friend and rubbed at his eyes with thumb and forefinger, grimacing.

"But he must have graduated from the academy, because he's here now," Narita said uncertainly. "So it can't have been his fault, right?"

"Conspicuously convenient for the son of an influential admiral, don't you think?" Tsukishima replied, shrugging. "Besides, you just heard it from the horse's mouth. 'I killed someone' is what he said."

"He also said it was an accident!" Yamaguchi snapped, whirling back to face him. "Why do you have to be like this, Tsukki?! Just because—"

Tsukishima took a sudden step forward, looming with his eyes ablaze. "Enough! I am not the one who should be on trial here," he said, shoving roughly past Yamaguchi and heading for the exit — only to jerk to a halt when Sawamura appeared, slightly out of breath, blocking the hatchway.

"And who _should_ be on trial, exactly, Tsukishima?" he said, with all the warmth of a glacier grinding over rock.

 _On trial_? Shouyou thought to himself. Some of the numbness in his brain was fading now, like he was waking up from a deep sleep. He stood up only to find his body jittery, trembling with electric energy, like a fully charged capacitor just waiting to zap something.

He wanted to speak to Kageyama. Had to hear it directly from him, so Shouyou could judge for himself.

While Sawamura's frosty glare kept them all pinned in place, Azumane hurried over to him and murmured a few quiet words into his ear. Sawamura winced and then nodded. While they all watched silently, he pulled out his datapad and called someone — only for his frown to deepen when there was no response.

"Does anyone know where Kageyama is now?" he asked, before calling someone else.

When nobody answered, Shouyou stepped forward. "I can go look for him."

Sawamura held up a finger as he spoke into the datapad. "Suga? Yes, unfortunately. Are the Nekoma pilots still with you in the simulation room? Good, keep them busy a little longer if you can. No, he's disappeared and isn't answering — we're going to have to search for him. Alright." He paused, thinking, then shook his head. "No — let's keep it low-key for now."

With that, he ended the call and put his datapad away. After taking a moment to collect himself, he gave them a stern look and cleared his throat. "Everyone makes mistakes. I do not believe Kageyama's to be enough to condemn him for life. If I did, I would not have requested him," he said firmly. "I do, however, believe in second chances." Glaring at Tsukishima in particular, he added, "If anyone has a problem with Kageyama's presence in this team, then they should take it up with me, not him. Is that clear?"

Everyone nodded, though Tsukishima's was more of an involuntary spasm.

Sawamura's shoulders slumped as he sighed. "Unfortunately, now we need to find Kageyama. I'd rather keep this an internal issue if I can, which means you guys are all I've got. Split up and try to find him. If you do, let everyone else know. Then try to calm him down and keep him in one spot until I get there, okay? I'll check his quarters first, so you check everywhere else."

The moment Sawamura let them go, Shouyou set off at a run, racing down the corridor towards the zero-g shaft. His first guess was the simulation room, but if Suga was there with the Nekoma pilots, then that wasn't likely. But Kageyama was utterly obsessed with piloting, probably spending more time in the cockpit than in bed, so if he couldn't hide away in a simulator pod he'd probably go for the real thing.

His heart hammered away as he burst through the airlock into the starboard hangar. No sign of Kageyama. He launched himself from the deck towards the open cockpit of Kageyama's Conductor.

Empty.

"You just missed him."

Shouyou followed the voice to spot Chief Shimada tinkering with Yamaguchi's Bombardier nearby, unfastening an access panel with a tool. "Kageyama, you mean?" he called, floating over.

Shimada nodded. "He left a few minutes ago."

"Do you know where he went?"

Hearing the urgency in his voice, Shimada looked up and frowned. "Sorry, I didn't ask. Why?"

Shouyou bit his lip. "I just need to find him, that's all," he said, pasting on a smile. "Thanks anyway."

He racked his brain as he headed back into the rest of the ship, stopping to check the locker room with all the pilot suits — still no sign. He tried to think like Kageyama. _If I was him, where would I go?_ he wondered, but it was useless. Kageyama only ever seemed to think about two things: flying mobile suits and food. Shouyou had already checked the first, and he couldn't imagine Kageyama had gone off to find food at a time like this. Besides, he'd been eating in the mess when Shouyou had arrived.

Maybe the gym? But surely someone else would have checked there already by now. He pulled out his datapad to check his messages, seeing a string of negative reports; Yamaguchi had already checked the gym, apparently, and Sawamura had said his quarters were empty. Shouyou tapped out a quick update of his own — _not in stbd hangar or locker room —_ and sent it to the others, then put it away and closed his eyes for a moment. _Think, Shouyou! Think! Where could that idiot be hiding?_

Unless he wasn't hiding...? Shouyou had figured he'd disappeared to go sulk somewhere on his own, which was what Kageyama usually did when he got pissed off. But he remembered the look on Kageyama's face, back in the pilots' mess, and all of a sudden, icy claws of panic squeezed the air from his lungs.

Was he _running away?_

As far as Shouyou could tell, Kageyama had no friends, no hobbies... no interest in anything outside piloting. Shouyou loved piloting, but Kageyama made him look like a hobbyist by comparison: Kageyama didn't just love it, he _lived_ it. It was basically his whole life.

And if he thought he couldn't do that anymore...

That _idiot!_ Was he really that stupid?

Shouyou rolled his eyes. _Who am I kidding?_ he thought. _This is Kageyama we're talking about — of_ course _he's really that stupid._

There was an easy way to check. The main airlock was just around the corner, connecting the _Karasuno_ to Miyagi's spacedock. There would be a sentry there — two, in fact, ever since the bombing attempt. He set off, a sense of cold, fearful anticipation building up as though his insides were slowly freezing, one organ at a time. Some part of him already knew, but as he stopped by the airlock and exchanged salutes with the sentries, he asked the question anyway.

"Has Ensign Kageyama been by here recently?"

The senior sentry checked her datapad. "Yes," she said, nodding. "Five minutes ago."

 _Moron! That utter_ moron! _When I find him, I'm gonna punch him so hard it'll knock his last braincell out!_

"Sir?" she prompted.

"It's nothing," Shouyou said, waving away her concern as he pulled out his own datapad. There were a few more updates — negative, of course, though why Kinoshita thought to check a storage compartment near the airlock on deck 6, he had no idea — and hastily added a new message of his own: _kagayama left the ship. hes in the colony. im going after him._

Five minutes wasn't a huge head start, but it was enough. Kageyama could be at the main elevators by now, the ones leading down into the colony cylinder itself. And once he left the spaceport, he could go anywhere. Shouyou set off in that direction, hurtling down the promenade that overlooked the _Karasuno_ 's dockyard berth.

Something niggled at him the whole way, right up until the point where he reached the T-junction where Kenma had spotted the bombers a few days ago.

Why would Kageyama go into the colony? There was nothing there that would interest him. As far as Shouyou knew, he hadn't even visited it once. Probably the only times Kageyama had even left the ship had been to go on patrols in his mobile suit, out into space—

_Oh shit._

Frantically, he looked this way and that, paralysed by panic. Like tumblers in an old-fashioned lock falling into place when turned with the right key, somehow he _knew_ , with utmost certainty, what Kageyama was trying to do.

He hadn't just left the ship. He was trying to leave the whole _colony!_

But the spacedock itself was huge, the size of a small city: a warren of corridors, workshops, storage facilities, enormous hangars, and giant tunnels connecting them. There were probably dozens of airlocks, ranging from the massive square ones big enough to fit ships like the _Karasuno_ to human-sized ones designed for maintenance workers and emergency access.

"Dammit, Kageyama!" he groaned, grabbing handfuls of his hair in frustration. Several passing dockworkers stared at him in alarm, which gave him an idea. He snagged the nearest, holding out a hand to stop them, and walked over. "Listen, are there any shuttles or anything nearby? Small craft you can fly on your own?"

The guy frowned at him in confusion. "What, like, to hire? There's nothing like that here."

Shouyou shook his head. "No. I don't know. I mean —" He broke off, remembering one of the jobs he'd had between finishing school and starting at Yukigaoka. "Maintenance vehicles, maybe — do you have any mobile workers? That sort of thing?"

"Oh, sure. Don't all colonies?" He pointed back the way Shouyou had come. "Nearest is probably a pair of TOLRO-800s in section 41, that way."

"Thanks, that'll do," Shouyou said, already kicking off and accelerating back down the corridor, hauling himself along by the handrail. He checked signage as he flew past, but none of it meant much to him. Beyond the promenade, it was just one identical corridor after another. With an angry growl, he slowed to a stop — giving himself friction burns on his palm in the process — and looked around. No matter how impatient he felt, he knew that if he got lost in the labyrinth of Miyagi's spacedock, he'd never find Kageyama. He needed some help, but there were no dockworkers around that he could see.

An idea occurred to him and he pulled out his datapad. Skimming down his list of contacts, he found Kenma's name and pressed the call button.

"C'mon, pick up, Kenma!" he muttered, in between blowing on his stinging hand.

Just as he was about to give up, Kenma answered. _"Shouyou?"_

 _"_ Look I can't explain right now Kenma but I need some directions urgently. I need to know where the mobile worker bay is in section 41."

A short pause. " _Is it another attack?_ "

"No! Nothing like that. It's..." He trailed off, biting his lip. Sawamura had said to keep it low-key, but he could trust Kenma, right? "Kageyama's gone missing. I think he's about to do something stupid and I need to stop him. Will you help?"

" _Where are you now?_ " Kenma asked.

Shouyou scanned his surroundings, but there wasn't much to go on. He backtracked to the last junction and read out the numbers on the small signs. "Level 19. At the junction of N-4 and E-53, whatever that means. There's a sign that says 'To Storage Bay 12' if that helps?"

The seconds it took for Kenma to respond stretched out into what felt like minutes, all while his racing pulse thudded away in his ears.

" _Okay, listen carefully,_ " Kenma said at last, before reeling off a string of directions.

Shouyou grinned. "Thanks Kenma! You're the best. I owe you big time."

Even with the directions, he made two wrong turns in his haste and was on the verge of calling Kenma back when he spotted someone in faded overalls coming in the other direction. "Hey!" he called. "Excuse me, but do you know where the mobile worker hangar is?"

She frowned at him warily. "Why are all you soldiers so interested in mobile workers today?" she said. "Wait — is it the bombers again?" She looked back down the corridor, eyes widening. "Oh my god, was that guy a terrorist?" Turning back to him in alarm, she held up her hands. "Look, it wasn't my fault, okay! He said it was military business and he showed me his ID and it all looked official and everything so please —"

"Hold on, slow down," Shouyou said, trying to get a word in. "Tall guy, black hair, mean eyes, face like curdled milk?"

She nodded quickly. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, no, it's okay. Just give me directions."

He was close, and the directions were simple this time, so he set off with renewed determination. Kageyama couldn't be more than a couple of minutes ahead of him.

Arriving at the airlock, Shouyou pressed the controls and waited impatiently as it cycled him through. Both sides were pressurised, so it only took a few seconds, but he felt like an entirely different sort of pressure was filling up inside his body, leaving him lightheaded and short of breath. His hands were sweaty and the trembling from earlier had returned, making his teeth chatter as though he were shivering in the cold.

The airlock hatch slid open to reveal a pair of yellow mobile workers side by side, clamped to the deck, with a large external door behind them. They were stumpy little things, with long arms ending in utility claws and short, fat legs that looked more like landing gear than a mobile suit's limbs. Most of the rest was taken up by a large bubble cockpit that housed the pilot, framed by powerful spotlights to illuminate whatever they were working on.

One of the cockpits was empty. The other was not.

"Kageyama!" Shouyou yelled, pushing off from the bulkhead and shooting through the air towards him.

Kageyama looked up from the controls in alarm, his face paling to a chalky colour. The cockpit dome was closed and Shouyou landed on it like an insect on a car windscreen, limbs splayed out as he tried to get a grip and avoid bouncing back off. When he was reasonably secure, he pounded on the dome with his fist. "Open up!"

"No!" Kageyama replied, voice muffled by the transparent plastic. Shouyou could see him racing through the power-up sequence.

It was only then, having found his quarry, that Shouyou realised he didn't know what to say. He'd been so focused on finding Kageyama that he'd almost forgot about _why_ he was tracking him down.

From the muddle of conflicting emotions brewing inside him, it was surprise that first bubbled to the surface. "Are you seriously trying to steal a mobile worker?!" he said. "Where the hell are you even going to go?"

Mobile workers weren't much bigger than a person — maybe three metres tall, though wide and squat. That was too small for even the compact Minovsky reactors that military mobile suits carried, so they ran on batteries and a tank of internal thruster propellant. They were very slow and strictly short range. Maybe, if he was sparing with the thrusters, Kageyama could make it to a neighbouring colony... but that's all.

The mobile worker jolted slightly as it powered up, its limbs unlocking. A whine filled the small hangar as its electric motors engaged, and for a moment, fear replaced anger as Shouyou's dominant emotion. "Hey!" he yelled, hammering on the dome again. "What are you doing?" Kageyama wouldn't really open the outer space door with him clinging to the cockpit, would he?

"What the fuck are you even doing here?" Kageyama said, glaring up at him. "Get off!"

"No!"

"Get off or I'll shake you off!"

Shouyou was holding on mainly from simple friction, though he'd managed to lodge one boot between the cockpit and one of the spotlights. "Kageyama, this is crazy! You can't just fly off in one of these dinky little things!"

"What else am I supposed to do?" Kageyama moved one of the mobile worker's arms, trying to brush Shouyou off the dome. Shouyou kicked out at it before scuttling around the other side where it couldn't reach him.

"For starters, maybe don't squish me with an articulated claw!" Shouyou yelled, white-hot fury pulsing through him. He punched the dome again, hard enough that he thought he might have cracked a knuckle. "Just _stop it,_ you stupid bastard!" He kept on hitting it, again and again, venting his frustration and anger and fear against the impervious plastic shell. "Kageyama! I can't believe you're just gonna run away! I thought you were better than that!"

Twisting in his seat, the harness pulling against his shoulders, Kageyama scowled at him. "What choice do I have, dumbass? It's not like anyone will fly with me now!"

Their heads were only about a foot apart, albeit separated by the thick transparent plastic, and Shouyou could see every detail of Kageyama's face: pale, glistening with sweat, jaw muscles bunched up, wide eyes full of fear and desperation and panic. And when their eyes met, Shouyou suddenly understood. He recognised that look. It was the feeling you had when your dream was about to be snatched away from you, just when you thought you finally had it in your grasp, and you knew there was no way you'd ever get it back.

Like cold water poured over a fire, Shouyou's anger extinguished. He pressed his forehead against the dome and sighed. "I will, you nitwit."

Kageyama stilled for a second, but then he shook his head and snorted. "Yeah, right."

Shouyou groaned in exasperation. "Kageyama, I swear, you've got to be the biggest —" He took a deep breath and glared at him, wishing he could melt through the cockpit with the sheer heat of his frustration. "Tell me this, how many hours have we logged in the simulators together?"

The question obviously threw Kageyama, who narrowed his eyes as though it was some kind of trick question. "Dunno," he said. "It's not like I've been keeping count." He glanced to the side. "A lot. Dozens, at least. Because it's always 'just one more go!' with you. You're like a spoiled kid."

He really wasn't going to make this easy, was he? Shouyou bit back the urge to argue — if anyone was a spoiled kid, it was Kageyama always insisting on doing things his way! — and shook his head. "You learn a lot about someone when you fly with them," he said. "Especially for that long. They might just be simulations, but we must've flown over a hundred sorties together now. And two real battles!" He held Kageyama's gaze, willing him to just _listen_ for once. "And I promise you, there is nobody on the _Karasuno_ I'd rather be flying with when the shooting starts. Certainly not that salty bastard Tsukishima."

Kageyama's expressions were always easy to read, limited as they were. Right then, curiosity was warring with doubt across his face. "But why?" he finally asked.

"Because flying with you means we're more likely to win and we're all more likely to come back alive," Shouyou said firmly. "Because as much as I hate to admit it, you're probably the best pilot I've ever seen. Well, apart from Amuro Ray." Kageyama was good, but he wasn't _that_ good. Nobody was. "And because... because flying with you is amazing, dammit!"

And as the words tumbled unbidden from his mouth, he realised they were nothing but the truth. Kageyama might annoy him more than anyone he'd ever met, but flying with him was something else entirely. And it wasn't just the Quickshot. After all their intensive practice, fighting together was becoming almost instinctive — as natural as breathing. He didn't even have to check any more to see what Kageyama was doing, no more than he had to check to see what his own hands and feet were doing. It was exhilarating. It made him feel _alive_ like nothing else.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The only sign that time was even passing was the way Kageyama's face began turning red, matched by a growing heat in Shouyou's own cheeks. But then, finally,  Kageyama reached back and flicked the switch to open the cockpit.

 

* * *

 

If Tsukishima's words earlier had been like knives to the gut, Hinata's words now had hit like a hammer to his chest. They left Tobio stunned and breathless.

Did... did he really mean all that?

Reaching back, he hit the switch to open the cockpit, which swung open — and launched Hinata towards the outer space door with a squawk of alarm. He rebounded off the metal surface _,_ cutting off his screeching with a pained _oof_ , and drifted back in the opposite direction.

Shaking his head, Tobio unfastened his harness, reached out, and grabbed Hinata by one flailing ankle as he floated past. "Dumbass," he muttered, holding on until Hinata had reoriented himself and got hold of one of the mobile worker's arms.

"That was your fault, not mine!" Hinata gasped, winded by the impact. He arched his back experimentally, wincing, and then climbed up to peer inside the cockpit. "How do you switch this thing off?"

When he reached inside to press something, Tobio snatched his wrist. "Did you really mean it?"

This time, Hinata wouldn't meet his eyes. "I wouldn't have said it otherwise," he muttered, trying to pull his hand back. "Now let go of me, Kageyama."

Was he lying? Was he just saying that because he thought it was what Tobio wanted to hear, because he thought it would stop him from going? Tobio wished he was better at reading people. All he could tell was that Hinata looked embarrassed, his face all pink and shiny.

Tobio let go anyway, then powered down the mobile worker. It didn't really matter either way now: he'd lost his chance to leave. Hinata was nothing if not stubborn; he'd probably keep hammering on the cockpit dome even as the bay door opened. "How did you even find me?"

"You were trying to run away, right?" Hinata said, a note of scorn in his voice that made Tobio's jaw clench painfully — all the more so because it was true. "I asked around, probably just like you did. This was the closest mobile worker bay."

"Oh," Tobio replied, scratching his cheek. That kinda made sense, although he'd hoped it would take them a lot longer to figure out where he'd gone.

After adjusting his position, making sure he was anchored and gripping the edge of the cockpit seal firmly, Hinata fixed him with a puzzled frown. "I don't get it, Kageyama. Where were you even going to go?"

Tobio shrugged. "I dunno. Another colony. Try to find another ship."

Hinata's frown deepened. "What, like, you'd just walk up and hope they were recruiting mobile suit pilots?" He let out a sharp _pfft_ of disbelieving laughter and shook his head. "Some plan."

"I thought I'd figure out the details as I went," Tobio protested, bristling, but then the fight went out of him and he slumped against his seat. "What's it matter now anyway? You caught me. I failed."

But Hinata was searching his face, eyes narrowed. "Even you're not that stupid, Kageyama." His sudden intake of breath made Tobio flinch. "Wait — another ship...? You mean a _Loyalist_ ship, don't you?"

Tobio sank deeper into the cockpit, hot shame burning in his throat. "I didn't have any other choice!"

"Maybe you could have _trusted_ us!" Hinata yelled, jabbing him in the shoulder. "Of all the — after everything... you were just going to _defect?_ Buy your way into a new mobile suit by telling the bad guys where we are? Even after what you saw at the park back on Phoenix Colony?!"

"No! I — it's... I don't know," Tobio trailed off miserably, hiding his face in his hands. "I'm sorry."

He really hadn't thought that far ahead, but now that had Hinata said it out loud, Tobio saw how it would probably have gone. The realisation made him want to shrivel up and die there and then. Running away was bad enough — but _betrayal_...

Some other part of him, that cold, angry voice in his head that sounded like his mother's, reminded him: _They were going to turn on you too. All you did was get there first._

But he didn't want to be that way. He _wasn't_ that way. Was he? Maybe he could have made up a story, given them the wrong information so they wouldn't have found the _Karasuno_.

He'd always been a terrible liar. Even to himself.

And then, as though some hot spark of self-loathing had landed on a munitions dump, fury erupted inside him. Fury at himself, at this stupid martial law bullshit, at his parents, at _everything_. He roared, an incoherent bellow of rage and pain and shame, and he brought his head sharply down on the controls, again and again. He kicked out with his feet, lashed out with his hands, anything to release the unbearable emotions roiling though him, like emergency valves bursting open to vent the hot fire within as a reactor goes critical.

"Kageyama! _Kageyama! STOP IT!"_

Small hands grabbed at his arms, restraining him, and Tobio tried to pull away, but they held on tightly. Wouldn't let go. He gave in, surrendering his arms, and curled up — burying his face in the crook of one elbow, feeling something hot and damp soak into the fabric. Tears or blood or both, he didn't care. His ribs felt like they'd become razors, slicing into him with every shuddering breath, and a cold ache of despair settled deep into his bones.

After this, nobody would ever trust him again. Not even Tobio himself.

Something warm rested on his back. "Kageyama."

"I don't know what I'm doing any more," he babbled, tensing against the touch as though it were poisonous. "I just..." He jerked upright, sending red droplets spraying through the air, and stared frantically at Hinata. "What do I do, Hinata?" he begged. "Tell me. Tell me what I'm supposed to do now."

"Stop bleeding everywhere for starters," Hinata yelped, eyes widening as they fixed on Tobio's forehead. He reached inside the mobile worker's cockpit and tugged a little medkit free from its velcro fastening by Tobio's knee. Rummaging around inside, he pulled out an antiseptic spray and some gauze. "Hold still."

Too drained for anything but mindless obedience, Tobio let him clean the cut and then held a wad of gauze against it when told to. It stung, now that he was aware of it, but he decided, with savage triumph, that it was the least he deserved.

"Sawamura said that anyone who had a problem with you being in the team should take it up with him," Hinata said quietly, packing the medkit back up with exaggerated care to avoid looking at Tobio. "I should tell him I found you. Everyone was worried."

"Not Tsukishima, I bet."

"You suddenly started caring what Tsukishima thinks?"

Tobio said nothing.

After finally zipping up the medkit, Hinata patted it absently and sighed. Only then did he raise his head, meeting Tobio's eyes. "What happened at the academy, Kageyama?"

Tobio turned away, hunching his shoulders, but he could feel the weight Hinata's gaze on him. It made him feel naked and helpless, like Hinata could somehow see right through him, all the way to his soul. If he even had one.

"It was an exam," he said, in slow, halting words, his breath hitching randomly. Now even his own voice was betraying him! He cleared his throat and tried again. Hinata had earned an explanation at the very least. "A live exercise against another team of cadets in my final year, 6 versus 6. Simulated weapons, but everything else was real — real mobile suits, real environment, all of it. There's a debris field. Wreckage, I can't remember from which war. Doesn't really matter." He sighed, flexing his bruised and aching hand. "I was the coordinator. Our opponents were good, we were losing, but I had an idea that would turn the tables."

It had been a stressful fight. They were two suits down already by that point and the rest of his team had fragmented, scattered across the field. But he'd never lost an assessed battle and wasn't about to start then. If only he'd been in an Avenger fighting one on one — hell, even three on one! — he could have taken them. But he was flying a Conductor, not an Avenger, and what mattered was how their teams performed, not how many enemies he could take out personally.

He clenched his fist, remembering the moment the idea came to him. It had made so much sense at the time. Seemed like the perfect answer, the only logical thing to do. Sure, it was difficult, but he'd been confident.

"The enemy team was working as a group," he said, "flying in close formation with their Defender and Conductor up front. We were too spread out to fight head on. Our best chance was to get behind them, but they weren't idiots — they would have seen us coming. So —" he broke off, losing his voice for a second. "So I told Fernandez — one of our Avengers — to act as decoy. Evade as long as possible, keep the enemy busy, while I went around the back and the others took potshots from the flanks."

Hinata was listening closely, gripping the rim of the cockpit tightly enough for his fingers to turn white, but he said nothing. Just kept staring with that eerie look of intense focus he sometimes wore.

"There was a malfunction in her suit," he said quietly, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as the memories flooded back — as vivid now as they were when it had actually happened. "One of the thrusters gave out. I did check, on the remote status readout, but I didn't think it was serious. I thought if I could have kept on going with that fault, then she could too. I told everyone to stick with the plan, told her to stop panicking and keep evading. I was so close to being in position!"

In fact, he'd been so focused on lining up his attack that he hadn't even realised what happened until the cries of alarm came over the comm system. Only then did he spot the greyed out icon on the team status display, turning his head to catch the dying glare of the small explosion.

"She hit a chunk of scrap metal at high speed. Tore her mobile suit apart, rupturing the fuel lines. The cockpit was mostly intact, but..." He gave a vague shrug. "Part got ripped away and there was a lot of shrapnel. The medics did their best."

Even now he couldn't bring himself to actually think about it. Not that they'd let him see her. She probably wouldn't have wanted to see him anyway.

"The inquest blamed it all on poor maintenance and pilot error," Tobio said, opening his eyes again to stare at the ceiling. He pulled the gauze away from his skin and poked the cut with a finger to see if it was still bleeding. It came away red and he sighed, replacing the gauze. "Everyone else blamed it on me."

Hinata shifted, reaching to put the medkit back where it belonged. "Hmm."

"Is that all you've got to say?" Tobio asked, frowning at him.

After scratching his cheek, Hinata frowned right back. "In the mess, you said _you_ killed her. But that's not how you made it sound just now. It sounded like an accident."

"But if I hadn't put her in that situation, she wouldn't have died," Tobio said, puzzled by his reaction. He'd expected something more... well, more _Hinata_. Loud and screechy.

Hinata considered that for a moment. "She could always have said no. I would have, if I thought you were wrong." Then he tilted his head, thinking. "And who knows, maybe you were actually right. I mean, what if it had been a _real_ battle? Not a training exercise?"

Tobio shook his head, not following. "Um, Fernandez would still be dead?"

"But what about the rest of your team?" Hinata insisted. "Would your idea have worked?"

Great. Now Hinata was starting to sound like Tobio's mother. "I dunno," he said, feeling aggravated by the question. "Who cares? The point is that it _wasn't_ a real battle, and I forgot that. 'It's not just about winning at all costs.' That's what my instructor said afterwards." He lowered his head, shuddering with bitter shame as he remembered the furious tirade. "And after... after it happened, nobody trusted me. Nobody talked to me, nobody followed my instructions, nobody wanted to fly with me at all."

Hinata winced and nodded. "At least you weren't kicked out, right?"

"I don't think the commandant dared," Tobio said glumly. "My mother commands the 2nd Fleet."

Hinata's eyebrows shot up.

"Exactly," Tobio said wryly. "Besides, the inquest said it was an accident. Not my fault. No justification for kicking me out." He paused, thinking about it. "Maybe they hoped I'd just quit instead."

At that, Hinata snorted. "You're no quitter, Kageyama," he said.

They fell into an awkward silence, neither knowing what else to say. Finally, after a heavy sigh, Hinata reached for his pocket. "I'm going to call Sawamura now. Don't do anything else stupid, okay?"

Great. They'd probably confine him to quarters at the very least, or maybe worse. He'd gone AWOL. Attempted to defect, even. Maybe for that they'd bust him right back down to a regular spacer and have him mop the decks all day. Or just shoot him. They could do that in wartime, right? Shoot traitors?

"What are you going to tell him?" he asked, resigned. "That I tried to steal a mobile worker and go join the Loyalists?"

Hinata paused, sucking on his lower lip. "I ought to," he said. "It would serve you right for being such a massive idiot." But then he shook his head, climbed down, and held out his hand. "C'mon. Get out of there. I'll tell him I found you wandering around like a lost lamb."

Tobio decided, there and then, that even if they were both to live to a hundred and spend every hour of those years training together, he would still never understand Shouyou Hinata.

But he took his hand anyway.

Once he was back on the deck, having closed up the mobile worker, he turned to Hinata. "I don't get it. Why are you doing all this?"

"Who else is gonna do the Quickshot with me?" Hinata replied, ducking his head and plucking at his left cuff absently. "I'll call Sawamura on the way back to the ship, get him to meet us there. What you tell him then is your business, so you better start thinking up some good excuses for that cut."

As Tobio followed him back through the corridors — having to stop to ask directions along the way — the sense of unreality he'd been feeling slowly gave way to apprehension. What would the commander say? Would he be angry? And how would the rest of the team react? Being allowed to stay only for everyone to reject him again... that might be even worse than running away.

When they arrived back at the promenade and caught sight of the _Karasuno_ once more, Tobio slowed down. "Wait," he said, peeling the sticky gauze away from his forehead. By now he was really starting to feel all the aches and pains from his freak-out in the mobile worker and his head throbbed in time with his pulse. At least the bleeding had stopped. "Is it noticeable?"

Hinata raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Kageyama, of course it's noticeable. What did you expect from head-butting the edge of a control console?"

Scowling, Tobio folded up the gauze to get a clean patch and started scrubbing at the cut.

"Tch. You'll just make it bleed again, birdbrain," Hinata said, rolling his eyes. "Give it here."

With considerably more care than Tobio, Hinata cleaned it up as best he could. "If you brush your hair down over it, it might hide the worst," he said, handing the stained gauze back. Tobio stared at it for a moment, confused, then stuffed it into a pocket.

Suga was waiting for them at the end of the extending docking arm that connected to the _Karasuno_ 's port airlock. "Thank heavens!" he said, smiling. "I was beginning to worry." With a nod at Hinata, he added, "Thank you for your help, Hinata. I'll take it from here."

Hinata glanced between them anxiously. "Okay. I'll... go back to my lunch, then."

Being back aboard the _Karasuno_ was weird. Even weirder was the way people were acting. It was one thing for Hinata to say what he did — he was just as new to the ship as Tobio was, and they'd both spent more time with each other than anyone else aboard. But on the way back from the airlock, Yamaguchi ran into them and apologised over and over for Tsukishima's behaviour, then Ennoshita, Tanaka, and Kinoshita caught up with them too to check up on him. It was sort of overwhelming really, and Tobio still couldn't fully convince himself it wasn't some kind of dream — just a way for his mind to cope with the catastrophe of his life.

"You're popular today, apparently!" Suga said, looking over his shoulder with a twinkle in his eye. But when he saw Tobio's expression, he brought them both to a halt and his smile faded.

"I heard what happened," he said. "Sorry about that. Daichi and I both agreed it was best to keep it confidential — we didn't want it to colour everyone's first impressions."

"You already knew?" Tobio asked, even more bewildered.

Suga's smile returned. "Of course we knew, dummy. Did you think we chose you for the team without even reading your record?"

"So why _did_ you choose me?"

He shrugged. "Because you are the best Conductor pilot either of us have ever come across. Because you shouldn't have to pay for a single mistake for the rest of your life. And because we believe people have the capacity to grow, if given the right opportunity."

It took a couple of minutes for Tobio to absorb that response, during which they got moving again. He wasn't great at understanding people at the best of times, but after today he might just give up trying. People made no sense whatsoever.

Suga slowed as they approached Sawamura's office. "Okay, here we are. And don't worry — he's not mad. Just stressed. He's got a lot on his plate right now, remember."

Tobio braced himself as Suga pressed the hatch control and ushered him in.

To call it an office was a bit of an exaggeration; it was basically two small cabins joined together with a connecting door to separate the working space from the sleeping space. Most of the space was taken up by a desk, behind which sat Sawamura, and a few chairs. The only real decoration was a row of pictures along one wall — some of past teammates or comrades, some of family members by the look of it.

"Take a seat, Ensign," Sawamura said neutrally.

Dammit. Now he almost wished he'd run after all...

But he hadn't, so he sat down — back straight, hands in his lap — and tried not to look too nervous.

"I'm sorry we haven't had chance to speak properly before now," the commander said, pausing to rub his eyes. "I've been neglecting you four new pilots somewhat, which is entirely my fault. Had I been paying more attention, perhaps today's unpleasantness could have been avoided."

He fixed Tobio with a stern glare, causing all the air in his lungs to suddenly flee.

"That said, running off like that was not very helpful. It's just as well Hinata was able to track you down as quickly as he did, because the alternative would've been to put out word that you'd gone AWOL," Sawamura said. "I'll overlook it this once, given the circumstances, but in future I expect you to live up to your obligations as a member of this team. Do you understand?"

Tobio nodded quickly. "Yes sir."

"Good." Sawamura's expression softened and he stood up, walking over to a coffee maker sitting on a drawer unit. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Uh, I'm good, thank you."

While the coffee maker got to work, Sawamura sat on the edge of the drawer unit and sighed. "Alright. I've heard what happened in the mess and I'm familiar with the basics of the incident at Kitagawa. Why don't you tell me your side of the story?"

So for the second time that day, Tobio found himself spilling his guts, talking haltingly about the lowest point of his life. Sawamura didn't interrupt, just sipped at his coffee as he listened.

"Has Tsukishima said anything about it before now?" he asked once Tobio had finished.

Tobio thought for a moment. "I think maybe he hinted at it a few times."

"And what happened to your head?"

Involuntarily, Tobio reached up to touch it. "Oh... I, um, ran into a door."

Sawamura raised his eyebrows. "... Really? That's really what you're going with?"

Tobio nodded.

The commander shook his head, a long-suffering look on his face. "You're a member of the Karasuno mobile suit team now, Kageyama," he said, after another gulp of coffee. " _My_ team. If anyone has a problem with that, then they also have a problem with me. Clear?"

"Yes sir."

"But at the same time, I need you to do your best not to make things any more difficult than they have to be. I understand why you might have wanted to keep to yourself until now, but you also need to integrate with the rest of the team, especially in your role as a coordinator." Sawamura leant back in his chair, studying Tobio. It felt a bit like being put under a microscope. "You're getting a second chance here," he went on. "Try to make the most of it, okay? Don't make the same mistakes again. And I'm not just talking about the accident."

Tobio swallowed, not entirely sure what was being asked of him, but he got the gist. "Yes sir. I'll do my best."

"Good." Sawamura finished his coffee and put the mug aside before clasping his hands together on the desktop. "Now, I need to get back to work. Was there anything _you_ wanted to discuss?"

He was about to shake his head when a thought occurred to him, following on from what Sawamura had said. "What about Nekoma?"

Sawamura winced. "I think we managed to keep today's events from them, at least for now. But we're going to be working closely with them and I'd rather not go through all this a second time." He tapped his fingers on the desk, thinking. "I think they need to know. Better they hear it from us than through the grapevine."

Tobio frowned, puzzling over it. Part of him wanted to keep it quiet, like before, but he didn't think he could cope with another scene like the one in the mess earlier. "What would you say?"

"I'm sure we'd figure something out," Sawamura replied, tapping his chin. He laughed at Tobio's alarmed expression and shook his head. "Don't panic, Kageyama. I wouldn't just call all of Nekoma to the briefing room, waltz in, and announce 'Hey, so let me tell you this fun story about Kageyama!' Give me some credit, please!"

"Sorry sir," Tobio mumbled, though his mental image hadn't been too far from that.

"I'd speak to Commander Kuroo first. He knows his team and how best to broach it to them," Sawamura explained. "But basically I think our approach would be to say that what happened in the past is in the past, that you have our full confidence, and that right now in these difficult times we all have to pull together because we've got a job to do."

"I have your full confidence?" Tobio asked dubiously.

The commander nodded firmly. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't. And I've seen what you're capable of." He got to his feet, an implicit dismissal. "So don't disappoint me, okay?"

"I won't, sir," Tobio replied, snapping off a salute.

 

* * *

 

"This is your last chance. Surrender... or be destroyed," Tooru proclaimed, enjoying himself far too much. He'd lined up directly in front of the Rebel ship's bridge tower, his railgun locked and ready.

It didn't take long for them to respond. In fact, judging by the flurry of panicked activity visible through the observation deck windows, they were literally falling over themselves to answer.

" _We surrender, repeat, we surrender!"_

Tooru kept his eyes on his sensor readout and only raised the barrel of the railgun when he saw their engines and weapon systems powering down.

"Very good, _Tokonami_ ," he purred. "That wasn't so hard, was it? Standby to receive our welcoming committee. Aobajohsai 1 out."

He pitied them really. The _Tokonami_ must be the unluckiest light cruiser in the entire Earth sphere — or perhaps they were just too well-meaning for their own good.

The _Aobajohsai_ and the _Dateko_ had been conducting a joint training exercise out near Side 5. Since they were using actual mobile suits and real ships, albeit with simulated weapon damage, from a distance it looked pretty much like a genuine battle: heavy Minovsky interference, bright thruster trails, flashbang missiles, the works.

And who should come blundering into the middle of it all but the _Tokonami_ , an elderly _Salamis Kai_ -class light cruiser that was probably nearly 20 years old! Evidently they'd thought a skirmish was taking place between Rebel and Loyalist forces, so they'd swooped in to the rescue... only to discover that _both_ the ships they'd spotted were loyal to the Junta.

It wasn't the first time something similar had happened recently, although not to Tooru personally. The battle lines between the Rebel forces and the Loyalists were still being drawn, with a lot of units either undecided or undeclared. Encountering an unidentified warship was like flipping a coin: heads they were friendly, tails they weren't. Sometimes it would lead to a skirmish, sometimes a wary standoff, and sometimes a friendly hello.

This time the _Tokonami_ lost the coin toss. Once they'd realised their mistake, they had tried to flee, of course — but by then it was too late. Two entire mobile suit teams were already in space and both battleships had been at full combat readiness; by the time the old cruiser had managed to change course, it had already been surrounded.

It was a little disappointing that they hadn't put up a fight — it would have been a great way to cap off an otherwise frustrating training exercise — but Tooru couldn't blame them. They wouldn't even have lasted 30 seconds.

He called it in, waiting for the assault shuttles full of marines to launch, and then opened a channel to both teams.

"In honour of our victory," he said cheerfully, "I'd like to invite you all back to the _Aobajohsai_ for a celebratory feast. We can debrief and go over our training exercise at the same time."

" _Good idea, Oikawa_ ," Moniwa agreed, sounding much happier than usual. But then they had just caught a minnow in their net without even trying; perhaps it was a good omen. " _Captain Oiwake wants us to keep a couple of suits out on patrol, however."_

Tooru nodded to himself; he'd expected as much, but by getting Moniwa to bring it up, he could wriggle out of it. "I'm sure you can find a couple of willing volunteers, Moniwa," he replied brightly. "I'll see the rest of you back aboard the _Aobajohsai."_

Or he would have done, had Mizoguchi not called him as soon as he landed. The bastard made him trudge all the way to his office to find out whatever it was he wanted.

"Nice work with the Rebel ship, Oikawa," he said, lounging in his seat. "Though it would have been hard to fuck it up."

"Thank you, sir," Tooru said, wishing he'd get to the point.

Mizoguchi apparently had better things to be doing too, because he didn't launch into one of his usual rants. "We got a priority request from the Admiralty. They want everything you've got on the _Karasuno_ fight — every detail you obtained with your Monarch, every theory and tactic you've constructed since. And they want it ASAP."

"What? Why?" Tooru asked. "I already sent them a report."

"And now they want another," Mizoguchi said, shrugging. "Better get to it."

After being shooed out of his office, Tooru set off back towards the pilots' section, his mood significantly dampened. What the hell did they want a new version for? Maybe some bright spark at HQ had deleted the last report by accident and rather than admit their stupidity they were asking for a revised version.

Iwa found him as he was nearing the pilots' mess. "Do you have some sort of tracker on me?" Tooru asked, frowning.

"That would be telling," Iwa replied. "Not that I'd need it this time. One of the mechanics mentioned that Mizoguchi had called you." He frowned, glancing down the corridor towards the XO's office. "What did he want?"

"Another pointless report," Tooru complained. "Urgent, apparently, so I better get on it. With a little creative editing of the last one, it shouldn't take too long." He straightened his shoulders and touched up his hair with his fingers. "But first, I need to greet my adoring fans."

After giving the assembled pilots some words of wisdom and congratulating them on their (trivial) victory, he encouraged them to eat up and then headed for his quarters to write the damn report. As expected, Iwa followed a few minutes later bearing two plates of food. What was _not_ expected was Moniwa accompanying him.

"Maybe I can help?" he said, eyebrows raised and wearing an earnest smile. "I went over your last report and reviewed the recordings from the battle. You never know — I might even be able to contribute something useful!"

Ordinarily, Tooru would have refused; he was more than capable of writing his own reports, thank you very much. But in this case, having an over-eager helper might get the pointless task out of the way more quickly so he could rejoin the other pilots.

"Alright," he agreed. "Get yourself some food first though."

It was an oddly convivial working lunch, all things considered. There was no new information on the _Karasuno_ 's whereabouts, so there was nothing really new to add there, but they managed to make the report look sufficiently different by padding out the section on countermeasures and drawing upon their experiences in the recent training exercises.

"In a way, it was just as well the exercise was interrupted," Moniwa remarked at one point. "Our coordination wasn't exactly great."

It was always tricky to get two different teams to operate together, especially when dealing with the tight tactical integration of RHQ series mobile suits. Though in this case the technical hurdles were less significant that the clash of egos involved.

"At least it was an improvement on last time," Iwa pointed out. He was making himself useful by proof-reading whatever Tooru or Moniwa churned out.

"We'll keep practising," Tooru agreed, pausing to slurp up some noodles. "It would help if some of your prima donnas stopped complaining about their role in it all, however."

Things had been strained with Dateko from the start, though it was more thanks to the circumstances that brought them together rather than either of the teams themselves. Most of Tooru's pilots felt that Dateko's arrival was an indication that the brass didn't trust them to get the job done by themselves, a loss of faith that was particularly galling since usually _they_ were the ones drafted in as troubleshooters. Evidently many of Dateko's people had interpreted things the same way.

It wasn't the most auspicious of beginnings and it had only grown worse when Aobajohsai were the clear victors in the team versus team training exercise they'd started with. That had led some of Tooru's team to develop a condescending attitude towards Dateko, and the rivalry had marred several of their later joint exercises.

Which was a shame, because in many ways the two teams complemented each other well — at least in terms of their tactics. Under Tooru's direction, Aobajohsai had developed into long-range specialists; they had an extra Bombardier compared to most teams, as well as Tooru's Monarch, which gave them essentially double the artillery firepower of Dateko. On the other hand, Dateko excelled at defence, their line-up including an extra Defender instead, and their "Iron Wall" tactic — in which the whole team advanced as one under cover of their I-Fields — fitted perfectly with Aobajohsai's bombardment tactics, since Dateko could shield them while Aobajohsai picked off the enemy from a distance.

Or at least that had been the plan. In practice it had fostered yet more resentment, because many in Dateko felt they were being used as human shields to protect Aobajohsai. Which wasn't exactly wrong, but why specialise in defence if you didn't want to defend?

"I know," Moniwa sighed. "I'll talk to them again. But hopefully today's events will help. It's always different once you've fought alongside someone."

"If you can call that a fight," Iwa grunted.

They worked quickly and Tooru was beginning to think they might actually finish in time for him to get back to the mess before the others finished eating, but when an urgent chime sounded repeatedly at his hatch, he sighed. He must have used up all his luck for the day in catching the _Tokonami_.

"Yes?" he said, opening the hatch with the controls on his desk.

"Sir, come quick!" Watari panted, stopping to lean against the frame and catch his breath. "There's a fight!"

Tooru blinked in surprise, letting his noodles slip back into their bowl. "A fight? With who?"

"Dateko!" came the breathless response.

"What?!" Moniwa said, jumping to his feet.

So much for mending bridges. Tooru gave his noodles a mournful look before rising from his seat and following Watari. He could already predict who would be involved: the usual hotheads in both teams, no doubt. "Where is Kamasaki, anyway?" he asked as they hurried through the corridors towards the mess.

"I left him out on patrol," Moniwa admitted. "He wasn't very happy, but it sounds like it might have been for the best."

Privately, Tooru agreed, but he kept his views to himself for a change.

He didn't run — it would be unseemly — but he had long legs and could walk very fast when he needed to, covering the distance quickly and ignoring the puzzled stares of the random crewmen he passed along the way.

"Can't you go any faster?" Iwa complained, obviously torn between running straight there and staying with Tooru; he kept jogging a few steps ahead then slowing down again.

"I doubt they're about to murder each other," Tooru said, more calmly than he felt, "and even if they were, I have confidence that our pilots would come out on top with minimal maiming."

"Hey!" Moniwa protested.

When they arrived, it wasn't as bad as Tooru feared. From Watari's state of panic, he'd imagined walls painted with blood and pilots strewn haphazardly across the deck with mangled limbs. Instead, he found a few bloody noses, food scattered across the deck, and a handful of pilots scuffling while the rest either egged them on or begged them to stop.

"WHAT THE HELL!" Iwa bellowed, loud enough to make Tooru flinch. It did at least have the desired effect of attracting everyone's attention. When the fighting didn't entirely stop, he pushed up his sleeves (honestly, Iwa, stop showing off) and dived into the scrap himself, possibly dislocating Yahaba's arm as he pulled him away from Futakuchi and shoving Kyoutani hard enough to knock him to the deck.

Rubbing his ear, still ringing from Iwa's shout, Tooru gave Moniwa a meaningful look — _let me handle this —_ then drew himself up to his full height and stared down the main culprits. One by one, they realised just how much shit they were in and lined up at attention, while the onlookers — suddenly much less vocal — shrank away into the background.

Tooru deliberately let the silence drag on, relishing the growing discomfort and fear in the room as he took in the scene. Yahaba was bright red with blood dribbling from his nose, trembling with suppressed anger and spent adrenaline. His uniform was torn at the collar and he kept exchanging furious sideways glares with Futakuchi. Futakuchi, for his part, had a busted lip and what looked like a full plate of ikura don decorating his tunic. He was breathing hard and clenching his fists repeatedly.

The instigators, no doubt.

They weren't the only ones, however. Aone, who towered implacably above everyone else in the room like a snow-topped mountain with legs, stood beside Futakuchi. Normally Tooru found him difficult to read (and in idle moments had wondered whether he even felt emotions at all), but now there was the faintest pink blush of shame dusting his cheeks. Kyoutani was no surprise, his face scrunched up like a bulldog chewing a lemon, but apart from a few bruises he appeared unharmed.

The remaining combatants were all rookies. Someone had doused Kindaichi's crotch and head with at least two different liquids — maybe coffee and milk? — which he kept blinking out of his eyes, one of which was swelling up, while Kunimi hovered nearby with no discernible injuries and a pretty good poker face. Only a slight wince suggested he'd taken a few hits at some point. On the Dateko side, Koganegawa was shuffling his weight nervously from foot to foot, trying but failing to keep a wary eye on Tooru without being obvious about it, and behind a table near the back stood Sakunami, dwarfed by his comrades and clearly shaken.

Nothing too serious, by the look of it. No doubt their high spirits and lack of adult supervision had led to gibes being traded, which had led to squabbling, which had led to scuffling.

 _Imbeciles_.

Having surveyed the rest of the room, Tooru turned his ire back towards the guilty pilots, counting to twenty in his head and letting his expression — carefully arranged to show equal parts displeasure and disappointment — do the talking. It was working: by now he had their full attention, with no more surreptitious glares or clenching of fists, and their anger was quickly transforming into apprehension.

"My, my," he said at last, oozing sarcasm, "trying to start a little civil war of your own, were you?"

Yahaba angrily pointed at Futakuchi and said, "He started it! They said we —" at the same time as Futakuchi glared at Yahabi and growled, "If that mop-headed fuc—"

Tooru clapped his hands together loudly, silencing them both, and then did it again for good measure.

"Aone," Moniwa said, breaking the ensuing silence. In contrast to his usual mild-mannered appearance, he was doing a creditable job of looking intimidating; Tooru gave a slight nod of silent approval. "I'm surprised at you. What were you thinking?"

Aone hung his head, frowning, but said nothing.

"If I may," Tooru said, moving from his spot for the first time so he could prowl from pilot to pilot, invading their personal space to smile right in their faces. He had a perfect smile for situations like this, one that promised retribution like a psychopath unsheathing a knife. "I suspect the chain of events went something like this." He draped an arm lazily over Futakuchi's shoulders, careful to avoid the spilled food, and ruffled Yahaba's fluffy hair with his other hand. "These two were no doubt trading barbs until Yahaba decided he could dramatically improve Futakuchi's sense of fashion by decorating him with his lunch." He moved his hand from Yahaba's hair to his neck, squeezing it from behind. "At which point I imagine Futakuchi retaliated with a punch, and then Kyoutani would have jumped from his seat with fists flying, and so on."

He let go of them both and moved to pat Aone on the back. "Perhaps Aone here tried to stop them, or perhaps he thought it was his duty to protect his teammates." Then he prodded Koganegawa in his arm. "And I imagine Koganegawa just followed his seniors' lead." Stopping in front of Kindaichi, he frowned. "Let me guess. Someone knocked your drink into your lap, so you got angry, at which point they dumped their own drink over your head."

Kindaichi nodded miserably. "Yes sir."

Returning to stand beside Moniwa, he folded his arms and gazed at the troublemakers for a few seconds. "Does that sound about right?"

"Yes sir," admitted Yahaba, eyes locked onto his feet. "Sorry, sir."

Moniwa sighed, rubbing his forehead in a manner that Tooru recognised all too well. "We leave you alone for ten minutes..."

"Firstly, I think some apologies are in order," Tooru told the culprits. "To each other and to everyone else, for spoiling their meals."

Yahaba took the hint and went first, turning to the Dateko pilots and straightening. "I apologise for my poor behaviour. It will not happen again." To the room at large, he added, "Please accept my apologies for disrupting lunch."

One by one, each of the remaining pilots followed suit, though Kunimi's apology was more of a barely audible mutter and Koganegawa delivered his at full volume.

"And I apologise as well, Moniwa," Tooru added, "for the conduct of my team. I'll ensure it won't happen again."

"Likewise," Moniwa said wearily. "Sorry about this, Oikawa." He ran a hand down his face and stared around the room as if he hoped it would simply disappear. "What a mess."

Which gave Tooru an idea. Turning back to the reprobates, he said, "You can start to make amends by cleaning all this up. Once that's done, report to me or Moniwa as appropriate for your punishments." He narrowed his eyes at Yahaba. "Except you, Yahaba. I want a word, please."

While Yahaba gulped and stepped forward, Tooru exchanged a look with Iwa, who nodded back: _I'll keep a lid on things here_.

Well, at least _one_ member of his team was dependable.

Tooru led Yahaba through to the nearest toilets, poking his head inside to make sure it was empty before entering. "Stand by the sink and pinch the bridge of your nose," he ordered, pointing, and then went to grab some tissue. Moistening it with water, he began to wipe the blood off Yahaba's face. Yahaba was completely taken aback, reaching up hesitantly with his free hand before letting it drop again. So much the better: the more off-balance he was, the more honest his answers were likely to be.

"Uh, sir?"

"What did Futakuchi say to rile you up so badly?" Tooru murmured as he dropped the bloody tissue in the sink and reached for a fresh one.

Yahaba deflated slightly. "He, uh, questioned our loyalty, sir," he said quietly, his voice nasal thanks to his nosebleed. "Among other things."

"That was enough to get you to throw your lunch at him? I know ikura don is your favourite," Tooru said sharply, scrubbing considerably harder than necessary with his tissue. "Tell me what he said, Yahaba."

Yahaba's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "He said we must have let the _Karasuno_ go. He said if Dateko had been there instead, they wouldn't have let them escape. And... and he said our tactics were cowardly, shooting from long range to stay safe, and..."

"And?" Tooru prompted, throwing away the second tissue and stepping back to inspect his handiwork. Most of the blood was gone now, and the flow from Yahaba's nose had more or less stopped. Bruises were forming across his eyes and cheeks — Futakuchi must have hit him hard — but it didn't seem to be causing him too much pain, so his nose probably wasn't broken.

"And he called Kentarou a rabid dog, and he called you, um, a smug snake who cares more about appearances than winning fights."

Tooru smiled, forcing his jaw muscles to relax so he didn't grind his teeth. "Really." He rubbed his temples, sighing. "Which bothered you more? Him questioning our loyalty, or him calling Kyoutani a wild dog?"

Yahaba blinked, looking away in embarrassment.

"No, that was unfair of me," Tooru said, patting him on the shoulder. "Sorry. But you're really not making my life easy, Yahaba."

"I know, sir. I am sorry."

Something like this was bound to have happened sooner or later. The pressure had been building up, despite his and Moniwa's best attempts to keep it under control, and in many ways it was something of a relief that things had finally come to a head. And it could have blown up in many worse ways than a minor scuffle over lunch.

But it did mean he had a lot of patching up to do. He'd have to talk to Moniwa, figure out some sort of horrible bonding exercise to try to make peace between the teams, as well as appropriate punishments for the culprits. And come up with suitable excuses for Irihata and Mizoguchi, too; _that_ would be fun.

Tooru eyed Yahaba shrewdly. Maybe he could make this work in his favour. Yahaba didn't always have the best attitude, but he was a promising pilot and — as the team's second combat coordinator — an important linchpin for Aobajohsai. Perhaps some additional responsibility would push him to shape up, force him to mature.

"Alright, Yahaba," he said sweetly, and Yahaba's guard instantly went up. "Since you got me into this mess, you can help me get out of it again. I want you to plan a series of teambuilding exercises with Dateko. I'll ask Moniwa to make somebody available to coordinate with — perhaps Futakuchi would be a good choice! — and together you can come up with a way of patching the new holes you just tore open in our teamwork. I expect a workable proposal by the end of tomorrow, understood?"

Yahaba knew better than to argue; he nodded meekly.

"And it better be a good proposal, because if I don't like it, I'll have to find some other way for you to carry out your penance. One even worse than forcing you to work with Futakuchi." Tooru tapped his chin. "Or maybe that's the answer? Perhaps a long distance reconnaissance mission would be better? Just the two of you, spending day after day in a cramped scout ship —"

"I'll make sure to come up with some good ideas, I promise," Yahaba said quickly. "Great ideas. The best ideas, even."

"Good," Tooru said, smiling sweetly and ruffling his hair. "Don't let me down again. Now get back to the mess hall and help clean up."

Once he was gone, Tooru slumped against the sink and stared into the mirror at his own reflection. It was funny how things that once seemed so unshakeable, so unbreakable, could turn out to be so incredibly fragile. Two weeks ago, he'd been the leader of one of the top mobile suit teams in a united, overwhelmingly powerful fleet; his biggest concerns had been figuring how to weasel himself a promotion in peacetime while thinking up novel new ways to tease Iwa without getting punched in return. Yet now here he was, struggling desperately to keep his team safe and united in the midst of a world falling inexorably into civil war.

After taking a deep breath to compose himself, he straightened his back, touched up his hair with his fingers, and pasted a confident smile onto his face. "No rest for the wicked," he told his reflection, then headed for the hatch.

 

 


	11. Anger

Sometimes, Koushi felt as though he were trying to juggle live grenades. Grenades that couldn't agree on anything, including when to explode. It wasn't a matter of _if_ something would go wrong, just a matter of when — and who would be to blame this time. Trying to compensate for it meant being in a constant state of hyper-vigilance, over and above the usual situational awareness demanded of a combat coordinator.

It was _exhausting_.

Ignoring the sweat beading on his cheeks and forehead, Koushi's fingers raced across the controls to redeploy Asahi and Noya. They had to cover the new hole left by Fukunaga's destruction, and _fast_. With half their escort now gone, the Bombardier force sent to strike at the enemy cruiser was vulnerable — but when he saw a trio of enemy mobile suits already peeling off to intercept them, he knew instinctively that Asahi and Noya wouldn't get there in time.

And just like that, _boom_. One of the grenades exploded. It would start a chain reaction, setting off all the others as their plan unravelled.

_Who am I kidding?_ he thought to himself, smiling darkly. _The plan was already in tatters; all we can do now is adapt and improvise._

For a couple of minutes, he flew solely on instinct, desperately reacting to each new crisis as it arrived but unable to regain control over the situation. By now the enemy was right on top of them, swarming their shrinking defensive perimeter, and Koushi struggled simply to stay alive.

He chanced a couple of shots at an enemy Defender, missing both. Then had to use his I-Field to block some incoming fire. Daichi chased away the culprit, sweeping past like a comet. A bright flash nearby — someone else gone. No new greyed-out icons; must have been an enemy. His suit shook as it took a glancing hit. He'd picked up another tail already. Before he could even turn, his assailant exploded. Pierced by a shot from above. He looked up, searching his scanners, just in time to see his saviour — Narita — get nailed by a railgun round.

As Koushi threw his Conductor into a tight spiral, evading yet another attacker, raised voices filtered though the chaos. Over the past few days, he'd learnt that eavesdropping on Karasuno's second squad was the fastest way to predict trouble, but right then there was nothing he could do about it; he had his own problems.

_"No Tanaka, wait, you're —"_

_"I've nearly got him!"_

In quick succession, two more icons on Koushi's display winked out.

Even as he turned to see what was going on, the Bombardiers got torn apart and the radio chatter descended into a stream of angry swearing. Asahi and Noya arrived just in time to cover the only survivor — Kuroo, who had an I-Field of his own — and all three reversed direction, chased by enemies and pelted by the enemy cruiser's point defence guns.

_"Fall back to the final line of defence,"_ Daichi ordered grimly.

Wearily, Koushi cast his eye across the rest of the battlefield, trying to get a feel for where everyone was. Some of the enemy had already penetrated as far as the _Nekoma_ and _Karasuno_ , which were acting as a last ditch barrier to protect the colony, and space around the ships was lighting up with streams of defensive fire. If the enemy got past them too, then not only was there nothing between them and the colony, the warships' big guns wouldn't be able to fire for fear of hitting the colony themselves.

Koushi followed Daichi, maxing out his thrusters, but his mental picture of the battle told him it was already over. Their king was in check and most of their other surviving pieces were on the wrong side of the board to save it.

Sure enough, a minute later, it was over: the colony had signalled its surrender.

Koushi leant back in his harness and groaned loudly, permitting himself to vent some of his frustration while secure in the knowledge that nobody would hear it outside the simulator pod. After all, he had appearances to maintain as the calm, unflappable second-in-command of Karasuno's mobile suit team.

If you could even call it a 'team' and not a flock of unruly crows trying to peck each other's eyes out.

The last training simulation hadn't gone any better, nor the one before that. The initial exercises they'd done within their own specialities hadn't gone too badly (the Kageyama situation notwithstanding) but that had been nearly a week ago. After that, they'd all come together to do joint simulations with both teams mixed together... and their success rate had dived off a cliff as a result.

Sure, they were practising the worst case scenario — outnumbered and up against an enemy willing to force their surrender by threatening the colony and effectively holding it hostage — but unfortunately it was also the most _likely_ scenario, according to the analysis the command staff had put together. Like it or not, they had to figure out a workable defence or they might as well just give up now and hand the colony over to the Junta.

That last scenario was looking ever more likely if their pilots couldn't pull themselves together and start working as a cohesive team.

Deciding that he couldn't hide any longer, Koushi forced a positive smile onto his face and hit the release button for his simulator pod. As soon as it cracked open, he could hear shouting.

"You wanna say that again, you beanpole bastard?" Tanaka growled, getting up close and personal in Tsukishima's face. One fist gripped a handful of Tsukishima's uniform tunic while a flustered Yamaguchi hovered nearby.

Tsukishima merely stared down at Tanaka, raising a sardonic eyebrow. "Why? Did you have trouble understanding it the first time? I can say it slower if you can't keep up."

Before Koushi could even climb out of his pod, Ennoshita forced an arm between the two pilots and grabbed Tanaka's wrist before he could plant his fist in Tsukishima's face. "Enough!" he snapped. "Both of you, back off!"

For a long, tense moment, like the spin of a flipped coin before it landed, things could still have gone either way. Tanaka was struggling to free his arm, Tsukishima was stubbornly ignoring Yamaguchi's attempts to tug him away, and Ennoshita was bracing himself to act as physical barrier between the two if necessary.

"Tanaka."

A shiver ran down Koushi's spine as Daichi spoke, an icy rumble that tore through the room like an avalanche. He hurried over, ready to do what he could to calm everyone down — even Daichi, if it proved necessary.

Daichi had come to stop beside both antagonists, hands planted firmly on his hips. Tanaka was still raring for a fight but he'd taken a step back, glancing uneasily at Daichi, and Tsukishima had gone from provocatively smug to cautiously apologetic in a single moment; Ennoshita, meanwhile, had wisely vacated the blast area entirely.

"It's bad enough," Daichi began, "that we failed the mission. Again, I might add. Bad enough that we were shown up by Nekoma. Again. But instead of trying to figure out how to improve, you two decide to waste time and energy picking a fight with each other." He paused to glare at Kageyama and Hinata, then at Noya, even at Kinoshita. "Not that they're the only culprits."

It was electrifying; nervous little tremors ran up and down Koushi's arms. He didn't think he'd ever seen Daichi quite so angry before.

With all the deadly weight of a particle cannon, Daichi turned to stare in turn at every pilot in the simulator room — most of whom were hovering nearby, watching with pale faces and wary expressions. "This will stop _right now_. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir," came the weary chorus.

Daichi lifted a hand to his ear. "I said, IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?"

"YES SIR!"

He nodded. "Tanaka, since you have so much excess energy, you can go run a lap around the circumference of the colony." When he turned to spear Tsukishima with his gaze, the rookie actually blanched — his already pale skin turning a ghostly white. "Tsukishima — you'll be on kitchen cleaning duty for the duration of our stay at Miyagi. Please take the opportunity to consider how you should address your fellow pilots — not to mention your superior officers — while you scrub every surface, every plate, every pot and pan, until they're spotless. But first, apologise to Tanaka." He glared, waiting. "Well?"

His cheeks now burning red, Tsukishima managed a bow in the zero gravity. "I apologise for my poor conduct, Lieutenant Tanaka," he said. "It will not happen again."

Surprised, Tanaka scratched at his head. "Uh, apology accepted," he muttered, before bowing back. "I apologise as well."

Daichi turned to face everyone else. "We should be better than this. The people of Miyagi Colony are depending on us. Please do not let them — or me — down again. Clear?"

"Yes sir!"

"Good. That'll be the last simulation today — we'll try again tomorrow." He raised an eyebrow at Tanaka. "I believe you have some running to do."

Tanaka closed his eyes briefly, resigning himself to his fate, and nodded. "Right away, sir."

"Ennoshita, go with him and make sure he completes the distance, however long it takes."

Seeing Ennoshita's horrified expression, Koushi cleared his throat nervously, hoping he wasn't about to misstep. "I believe the Commander just wants you to monitor him, not run alongside him." With a hesitant smile, he added, "Please also make sure Tanaka doesn't drop dead from exhaustion. We can't afford to lose any pilots, even rowdy ones who should know better."

"I'll... yes, I'll think of something," Ennoshita said faintly, following Tanaka from the room.

"The rest of you are dismissed. _Please_ behave yourselves," Daichi said, his voice almost human again now.

The others hurried out quickly, comically eager to escape Daichi's wrath, until only Koushi was left behind with him. As a result, he was the only one who saw Daichi's shoulders slump, noted the way he massaged his temples, and heard his long, weary sigh.

"You were pretty harsh on them," Koushi said, anchoring himself to the floor nearby. "Not that they didn't deserve it."

When Daichi looked over at him, all trace of the stern, scary commander had melted away, revealing the vulnerable, tired young man beneath. "We can't keep doing this, Suga," he said. "The stakes are too high. If I can't whip these guys into a proper team soon..." He trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

Koushi squeezed his shoulder, nodding. "Is Ukai breathing down your neck?"

"He's certainly not happy, but he has other problems to worry about too," Daichi said, staring up at the ceiling. "Like working with the Commodore to gather allies and put together a long-term plan, not to mention trying to figure out who those saboteurs are..."

"At times like this, I'm glad I'm as far down the pecking order as I am," Koushi said. He put on his most reassuring smile. "Try not to worry. They'll come together in the end. They're all good people."

"Yes," Daichi agreed, sighing, "but can they make a good team?"

Koushi knew what he meant. They'd taken quite a gamble, selecting the pilots they had — individually, each of them had a lot of potential, but a team was more than just a collection of individuals. It was all the more obvious when he compared them to Nekoma, who functioned much more smoothly together.

To make things worse, the revelations about Kageyama's past were having a subtle but noticeable effect. Nobody was stupid enough to incur Daichi's ire by saying anything directly, but few were going out of their way to bridge the gulf that had opened up between Kageyama and everyone else in the week since. Worse yet was the hesitation and the second-guessing going on in the cockpit; there wasn't time in a battle to sit and question your coordinator's instructions. You had to trust them and react instantly.

"All the stress can't be helping," Koushi said thoughtfully, looking around at the pods. "Even if it's a simulation, it's still a battle. There's a lot of pressure. Maybe what we need is to blow off some of that steam."

Daichi gave him a blank look. "Huh?"

The beginning of an idea was starting to take shape, somewhere in the hidden corners of Koushi's unpredictable imagination. He didn't know, yet, whether it would be a brilliant idea or one of those wicked ones that sometimes bubbled up from the depths. At times he wondered if he really did have an angel sitting on one shoulder and a devil on the other.

He smiled one of his most reassuring smiles and put an arm around Daichi's shoulders. "I might have an idea."

The suspicious, narrow-eyed stare he received from Daichi was totally unwarranted. "An idea."

"Hey, don't look at me like that!" Koushi protested, nudging Daichi towards the hatch. "I think this one will be a good one."

"Your track record is mixed at best," Daichi said, still wary. "You know, even now I still get nightmares about that foam party."

Koushi laughed, despite his best attempts to smother it. He'd gotten into so much trouble... "The ship's ventilation system was blowing bubbles for a week!" he said, delighted by the memory.

Daichi shook his head fondly. "So what are you cooking up this time?"

"It needs more time to marinate yet," Koushi said, tapping his nose. "Ask me again later when I've decided whether it will work."

"Suga..."

Koushi smiled, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and waving the other around as if unveiling a brand new horizon. "Okay, okay. Picture this: a cargo bay filled with obstacles, splattered with bright colours, as laughing mobile suit pilots zip back and forth between them, becoming the best of friends via the medium of zero-g paintball."

Judging by the look on his face, whatever Daichi had been expecting, it wasn't that. "Zero-g paintball."

"Yup! We can set up teams so they all have to work together, but in a fun, low-pressure situation rather than a tense combat simulation. It's foolproof!"

"I don't know about foolproof," Daichi said slowly, but Koushi could already tell he was warming to the idea. "And it'll be a pain to clean up afterwards..."

Koushi shrugged; it was worth the cost. "That just gives everybody more time to spend together."

Daichi checked his watch, wincing. "We really need to get moving or we'll be even more late for our meal with Kiyoko," he said. "But it's not your worst idea. When you get time, talk to whoever you need to and see if it's possible."

"Aye aye sir!" Koushi said with an exaggerated salute, before following Daichi out of the simulator room.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. But first he had to find Takeda and get him on board; with Takeda's help, he was sure they'd be able to persuade Captain Ukai. Ukai might then be willing to use his contacts to find them a suitable venue in the spacedock. He'd also have to talk to (okay, _bribe_ ) the cargomaster, De Ruyter, to obtain the necessary kit, and figure out how to child-proof the compartment so that his flock of idiot children didn't bash their brains out as they were floating about shooting at each other.

"I can practically hear the gears whirring in your brain as you plot," Daichi said as they entered the lift down to the gravity block. "You missed your calling as a criminal mastermind, Suga."

He grinned as the lift lurched into motion. "I've got to save something fun for my retirement, right?"

Daichi burst out laughing, surprising an engineering technician who was sharing the lift with them.

Thanks to the training exercise overrunning, they were late arriving at the wardroom. The hum of conversation and clinking of cutlery filled the busy compartment, but Suga spotted Kiyoko and Asahi at a table in the corner with a couple of extra seats reserved. Kiyoko looked up from her meal as they entered and Suga waved before pointing to the serving counter, indicating their intent to get food first.

As they joined the short queue to be served, Suga looked around the room. He always enjoyed the wardroom's atmosphere; with their own schedules and facilities, it was easy for pilots to get stuck in their own little world, and it made a nice change to mingle with the rest of the crew from time to time. In the past, he'd known some pilots who had viewed themselves as being the 'elite', preferring to stay aloof from the rest of their ship, but neither Captain Ukai nor Daichi would allow that sort of snobbery aboard the _Karasuno_.

Besides, it was probably just as well Kiyoko had invited them to eat there. Eating in the pilots' mess after Daichi's little explosion earlier would have been intensely awkward.

Laden with a hearty plate of spaghetti bolognese, he slid into the chair opposite Kiyoko with a smile. "Sorry for the delay!"

"I hope you don't mind us starting without you," she said.

"Not at all," Daichi said. "It's our fault for being late."

Kiyoko gave him a sympathetic look. "Asahi was just telling me about how badly the training exercise went." She kindly left the "again" at the end of the sentence unspoken, but Koushi heard it all the same and winced.

"We've been trying something new," Daichi explained, sighing. "Trying to combine the two teams rather than working separately, so we act as one big force rather than two separate smaller ones. In theory, it should allow us to maximise our firepower, but in practice..."

Koushi tilted his head, trying to find the most diplomatic way of describing the fiasco. "We're having a few teething issues," he said in the end. "Especially with our guys in Karasuno, though Nekoma isn't finding it easy to work so closely with new people either. Plus some people still aren't keen on fighting the Loyalists directly." He spun his fork around, coiling up some spaghetti, and grinned as he brought it to his mouth. "Don't worry though. I've come up with an idea."

Her expression of sheer horror was enough to make him giggle.

"It's not karaoke again, is it?" Asahi complained, with a forkful of potato frozen halfway to his mouth.

"Hey, look, some of my ideas are good, you know!" he protested, though he knew his grin was ruining his innocent act. "In fact even the bad ones tend to be a lot of fun." Once he got his expression under control again, he looked down his nose at Asahi and sniffed. "And for your information, no, it's not karaoke."

Kiyoko adjusted her glasses, smiling wryly. "People might be more receptive to your ideas, Suga," she said, "if you didn't sound as though you'd just figured out how to raid the nearest bank."

"Nothing so dramatic," Koushi chuckled. "But speaking of criminals..." He turned to Daichi. "Any word from your detective friend?"

Daichi nodded as he chewed. Once he'd washed down his food with a sip of his drink, he glanced over his shoulder to check nobody was listening and then leaned forwards. "Chan says they've rounded up a few more suspects," he said quietly. "Including quite a few from the garrison. Problem is that the evidence is only circumstantial. The police looked at people coming and going from the area around the bombers' warehouse, but there's no law against being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and none of the people they've arrested so far have given anything useful away."

"What about the weapons from the garrison?" Asahi asked, frowning in worry. "Has anything else gone missing?"

"All of the logs and inventories were conveniently wiped," Daichi said, curling his lip in disgust. "We don't even know what might have been smuggled out. But everything's that's left is secure now."

"We've got people from both the _Karasuno_ and the _Nekoma_ guarding it," Kiyoko added, wiping her mouth daintily with her napkin. "It should be enough."

The uncomfortable silence that followed nevertheless spoke volumes. Koushi would sleep a lot better at night if he knew no more weapons or explosives were out there, ready to be used in another attack, but all they could do was hope their improved security measures would be enough.

He sighed, regretting ever bringing it up. They were meant to be having a pleasant meal to _forget_ their troubles, not remind everyone of them. After a couple more minutes of apprehensive quiet, he gulped down some water and cleared his throat.

"Daichi, did you ever tell Kiyoko about the Hair Spray Incident?" he said, winking at him.

"The what?" Kiyoko asked.

Daichi ran a hand down his face, groaning, but Koushi could see the smile underneath. Asahi had already begun giggling in anticipation; he'd heard it before.

"It happened at my academy, Izumitate," Daichi said, pausing to chew on another mouthful of vegetables. "I became a minor celebrity because of it, though not in a good way. Also I was sworn to secrecy on pain of death, so you never heard any of this from me."

Now intrigued, Kiyoko adjusted her glasses and sipped at her water, waiting.

"The deputy commandant, who shall remain nameless, was this bad-tempered, puffed-up guy in his 50s."

"You know the sort," Koushi chipped in, tapping his nose conspiratorially, "one of those self-important but well-connected idiots who blusters his way through the ranks until he gets promoted sideways into a cushy job where he'll do less damage."

"Like teaching new cadets...?" Kiyoko asked, frowning in disapproval.

Daichi shrugged. "He certainly made sure we all knew how to polish our buttons and shine our boots." With a quick glare at Koushi, he carried on. " _Anyway_ , as I was saying. In my second year, we went on a training cruise aboard an old _Lepanto_ -class frigate more than twenty years old. Barely spaceworthy — constantly breaking down — but good enough to fly a bunch of cadets around for a couple of weeks. And the deputy commandant came along for the ride." He scratched his cheek and raised his eyebrows, blowing out a long breath in a silent whistle of dismay. "Longest two weeks of my entire life."

"He kept pulling surprise inspections, insisting the decks were polished until you could see your reflection, turfing them all out of their quarters at dawn to run drills — that sort of thing," Koushi said, leaning forwards across the table excitedly. He clapped his hands together and laughed. "Must have been absolute hell! Maybe I should be taking notes for our own rookies..."

"Am I telling this story or are you?" Daichi grumbled.

"Sorry, sorry, go on." Koushi mimed zipping up his mouth, though it didn't do anything to hide his grin of anticipation.

"So my friend Ikejiri had been tasked with fixing part of the ventilation system," Daichi went on, idly consolidating his remaining food on his plate until he could scoop it up and gulp it down in one go. "It was going haywire all the way through the second week — it couldn't balance the air pressure properly at all. I lost track of how many times my ears popped. But Ikejiri was terrible with machinery, so he begged me and another friend, Michimiya, to help him out."

He paused to sip his drink, then sat back in his seat and grinned at them all, basking in their rapt attention.

"...And?" Kiyoko prompted when he let the pause drag out for too long.

"We tracked down the problem to a faulty pressure sensor in Life Support Control, so we shut down the air processor while we dismantled part of the system to replace it," he said, all casual and matter-of-fact. Koushi nearly bent his fork in half with impatience when Daichi stopped to dab at his mouth with a napkin. "Then — bam! Surprise inspection. The deputy commandant wanders in while we're all filthy with disassembled components everywhere. For a moment, he swelled up with so much indignation I thought he was going to burst." And, to illustrate, Daichi held his breath, puffed out his cheeks, and tensed until he was red in the face.

As Asahi laughed, Daichi exhaled and grinned. "We explained, obviously, and he insisted on supervising. Not helping us, mind you — just watching. And Ikejiri — well, he was already nervous about meddling with the life support system. With the deputy commandant breathing down our necks, he could barely keep his hands steady."

Koushi clasped his hands together, biting his lip to keep from spoiling the story as he watched Kiyoko's expression, not wanting to miss the moment of revelation.

"He did his best, reinserted the sensor, and — to test it worked — we switched the air processor back on." With a pause for dramatic effect, Daichi grabbed his metal plate and began shaking it against the tabletop, clattering away. "It sounded just like that. To this day I'm still not sure what exactly he did wrong, but the computer was _convinced_ that the ship was over-pressurised up to a hundred atmospheres. Immediately, every ventilation shaft in the ship began sucking air out. including the one directly above the commandant... and his wig."

By now Kiyoko wore a shy little smile too, but Koushi could see her genuine amusement in the crinkles by her eyes.

Daichi made a sudden slurping sound and then slammed his plate into the table one last time. "And just like that, it sucked the toupee right off his head." He ran a hand over his own hair appreciatively. "I don't think I've ever seen a more polished scalp."

Koushi roared with laughter, only then realising that several of the officers at nearby tables had joined in — they must have been listening too. "And... and the rest, Daichi!" he gasped between laughs.

"Well, Michimiya managed to shut off the system before it left us breathing vacuum, and then we all just sort of froze, staring at each other. Nobody could quite believe it and we looked up at the shaft where the wig had gone. Then I came up with the idea of setting the system to manual and reversing the flow. I mean, half the air in the ship had just been sucked out, right?"

By now Koushi was nearly in tears, hammering his fist on the table. "Oh god!"

Daichi was struggling to finish his tale without laughing too. "When the vent turned back on, it sprayed shredded hair right into the deputy commandant's face — and all over the compartment. Must have got torn apart by the filters."

Even Kiyoko was laughing uncontrollably now, an undignified wheeze that only made Koushi giggle more. Asahi was red in the face, clutching his chest and stomach as he gasped, and Daichi looked around, taking in his audience and clearly enjoying himself.

"The ship was ordered to head straight back to the academy," he added remorselessly, "where we were all told never to mention the event to anyone or face expulsion. On the plus side, there were no more surprise inspections from Colonel Chrome-Dome."

Once they'd all calmed down again — which took a while, because every time they met each other's eyes they'd start chuckling again — Daichi sat back with a fond smile and hummed. "I wonder what Ikejiri and Michimiya are up to now. We haven't been in touch recently."

Feeling as though all was right with the world once more, Koushi shrugged. "Maybe they formed a secret wig-hunting unit, dedicated to ridding the universe of bad toupees. Once all this mess is over with, maybe you should join them for a bit — you obviously have a talent for it!"

"Maybe so," Daichi said as they all laughed again. "But then who would keep an eye on you, Suga? I dread to think what mad schemes you'd concoct without supervision."

"Just wait and see," Koushi shot back, grinning.

 

* * *

 

Chikara couldn't help but feel guilty as he rode alongside Tanaka. The poor guy was staggering along, dripping with sweat and panting like an overheated dog, but he refused to give in. Even Chikara was tired, and he had the advantage of a hired electric bicycle. But as time went on and the kilometres racked up, he was increasingly concerned that Tanaka really would collapse or have a heart attack or something. Tanaka was fit (almost distractingly so), and he'd made it more than half way around the colony already, but it wasn't like he'd been prepared to run a marathon when he'd woken up that morning.

"At least take a break, Tanaka," he pleaded, gesturing up ahead. The road they were following snaked through a valley, passing through a series of small villages surrounded by rice paddies. The villages were all beginning to blend into one, but the one they were passing through right then was a little bigger and had an open area in the centre, like a village square. In the middle was a stone Buddha statue surrounded by fragrant blue flowers, and off to one side was a pond with a few droopy trees and shaded benches — perfect for a rest stop. "You can have some water and some food to keep your energy up, and then you can keep going if you insist."

Tanaka's only response was to scowl, but as they reached the square, he slowed to a steady plod, heading for the nearest bench. The shade was a welcome relief from the warm sunlight and the bench offered a nice view of the pond and the flowers beyond. Apart from Tanaka's panting, the only noise was the excited quacking of some ducks nearby, gathered around a young girl who was feeding them with handfuls of what looked like seeds.

Chikara leant his bike against the back of the bench and unslung the backpack he'd brought. "Here," he said after rummaging around, passing Tanaka a water bottle and a banana (now somewhat bruised). He pulled out a juice carton and another banana for himself.

Under different circumstances, this would have been a pleasant diversion. Green countryside with real plants, actual sunlight instead of artificial shipboard light, just him and Tanaka and some peace and quiet for a change... But it was unfair of him to take any pleasure in it, given the harsh punishment that Tanaka insisted on enduring so stoically.

"Sawamura must have been seriously mad." He sucked the last of the juice through a straw until it rattled, then got up to toss it into a nearby bin. "You were out of line, but not 'run a marathon until you drop dead' out of line. We're all stressed out, after all."

Tanaka was doubled over, elbows on his knees, still catching his breath before starting on the banana. The water bottle was empty. "I shouldn't have let Tsukishima get to me," he said, his voice hoarse; his throat had to be worn ragged.

Shrugging, Chikara started to peel his own banana. "He was being a salty bastard, as usual."

"Yeah, but he had a point," Tanaka said, still staring at the ground. "I did get carried away in that last simulation. I was supposed to be escorting the Bombardiers, not flying off to get revenge. It got me killed, and worse, it got Yamaguchi killed too. I need to be better than that."

"Ah," Chikara said. He chewed on the banana, nodding slowly. Tanaka did this sometimes. He was one of the toughest people Chikara had ever met, could laugh and smile even after the most gruelling of training exercises, and never let the opposition faze him. But he did take his own failures to heart.

And in this case it wasn't even really a failure. Yes, Tanaka might have got distracted, meaning he was slow to react when Kageyama warned him that Yamaguchi needed help, but it wasn't like everyone else had flown perfectly. It had been a phenomenally tough simulation and nobody had come out of it looking good.

"Ah?"

"Ah." Chikara patted him on the shoulder, regretting it when his hand came away damp. He wiped it dry on his trousers. "That's why you refuse to stop running. You think you deserve the punishment."

Tanaka looked up, scowling. "I do!"

"You know what you did wrong," Chikara told him. "Just learn from it and don't make that mistake again when it counts. But running until you wear your legs down to bloody stumps isn't going to help anyone, is it?"

Instead of replying, Tanaka tore the peel off his banana and bit it violently in half, as if it had just insulted him.

With a sigh, Chikara ran his fingers through his hair and turned to watch the ducks. The girl had run out of food for them, but they were still quacking loudly, some climbing onto the shore to pester her, so the girl ran to her mother to ask for more.

It was a peaceful place. A gentle breeze whispered through the tree branches. A few bees hovered lazily around the flowers. An elderly couple strolled by, chatting quietly, and the girl scampered around the pond, empty-handed, while a line of greedy ducks pursued her.

Just an ordinary village in an ordinary colony. People (and ducks) living out their everyday lives. It was easy to forget, in simulation after simulation, what they were really fighting to protect.

He opened his mouth to say something poetic to that effect when a middle-aged man stopped in front of their bench, frowning at their clothing. "You're soldiers from those warships, aren't you?" Although Tanaka was in his PT gear, it still had EFSF logos on it, while Chikara was wearing his uniform, albeit with the tunic unzipped.

Chikara looked up at him, squinting a little as one of the colony mirrors was right behind him. "Yes," he said. "We're pilots from the _Karasuno_."

The man was just an ordinary guy, sandy-haired and dressed in casual, outdoor clothing, but at this admission he became visibly agitated. "You shouldn't be here," he said loudly. "Why don't you just leave, before things get any worse?"

"We're just passing through," Chikara told him, puzzled.

"I don't mean _here_ , I mean leave Miyagi altogether!" he said, gesturing vaguely at the sky.

"What are you talking about?" Tanaka snapped, hackles raised. "We're here to protect you!"

By now they were starting to cause a scene. The elderly couple had stopped to stare and the girl had been summoned back to her mother, who was watching warily. The ducks had returned to the safety of their pond, no longer quacking.

"Protect us?" the man said, laughing bitterly. "From what, exactly?"

"From martial law!" Tanaka said. He surged to his feet with sudden energy. "From those who want to take away your freedom!"

Chikara reached for his arm. "Tanaka..."

The man wrinkled his nose, though Chikara wasn't sure whether it was at what Tanaka said or the fact he stank of sweat. "Freedom, huh?" the man said. "That's all well and good if we're alive to enjoy it. But tell me, soldier boy, what do you think will happen to us when the Loyalists show up?" He prodded Tanaka in the chest. "It'll be us who get caught in the crossfire."

Standing up and clamping his hand around Tanaka's arm, Chikara cleared his throat. "We have no wish to put Miyagi Colony at risk, sir," he said. "Hopefully this will all get sorted out through negotiation so there won't be a need for any fighting at all."

"Because that's worked so well the last three times a war started," the man snorted. "Right."

Chikara could feel the muscles in Tanaka's arm tensing up, like steel cables beneath his skin, and decided it was time for a tactical withdrawal. "Time to start running again, Tanaka," he said, nudging him back towards the road. "I'll catch up." When Tanaka didn't budge, he added, "Or do you want me to tell Sawamura that you picked a fight with a civilian?"

With a growl, Tanaka relented, turning away from the man and jogging over to the road.

"That's right! Now run all the way back to Earth as well!" the man called after him.

Before he could add anything else that would provoke Tanaka to turn back and sock him in the face, Chikara slid in front of him, eyes narrowed. "You may not approve of our protection," he said icily, "but frankly I don't care. People have _died._ Died for the crime of daring to protest when someone decided to impose order at gunpoint. You might not care about that, but we do. It's our job to stand between you and that gun. Or would _you_ rather do it?"

The man took a step back, attention firmly focused on Chikara now. "We didn't ask for your help."

"Well, the Governor did. Take it up with him, just like the other protesters are doing in New Sendai." Chikara pulled on his backpack and grabbed his bike. "Which, I remind you, is only possible because there's no martial law here."

They left the village behind, though thanks to the way the colony curved, it was never out of sight, and Chikara couldn't help but keep frowning back at it. The further they got, the higher it rose behind them, as though it were an accusing eye staring down at them.

"Ungrateful bastards," Tanaka huffed when he caught Chikara glancing back for the fifth time.

"They're just scared," Chikara said, though part of him agreed with Tanaka's assessment. "And he has a point. Our presence here will draw trouble, sooner or later."

If Tanaka had anything else to say, he chose to keep it to himself. Or maybe he was just too out of breath to talk. Chikara kept pace beside him, sometimes pedalling and sometimes letting the electric engine do the work, and metre by metre they kept moving. They were coming up on the last bridge, a curved suspension bridge that spanned the giant window out into space; they'd already crossed two. Since the colony consisted of three 'land' sections and three 'window' sections, travelling around the circumference of the cylinder meant crossing from section to section, each one alternating.

Personally, Chikara disliked the bridges. During the day it was too bright, like crossing over the surface of the sun, thanks to the giant mirror outside reflecting the light. And during the night, all you could see beneath you was stars. He'd grown up in a colony just like Miyagi, so he'd long since grown used to them (unlike a few wary Earthlings he'd met), but even so there was something unsettling about crossing over the void.

And on a more prosaic level, compared to the lush valleys and rolling hills of the land sections, the plain concrete bridges were extremely boring — as Tanaka complained when he stopped in the middle of it for another break. "How much further does this damn bridge go on for?" he said, draining another water bottle.

"Don't drink too much," Chikara warned him. "There's nowhere to pee on the bridge, remember." But then he checked his datapad for their position. "We're about a third of the way across the bridge. Another 2.6 kilometres, then we just need to get back through New Sendai," he said. "About 5 kilometres in total — nearly there."

Tanaka nodded, putting the bottle away. "Can you talk or something to pass the time? I might die of boredom before I reach the other side at this rate."

"Uh, sure," Chikara said, getting back on the bike and pedalling to keep pace with him. "What do you want me to talk about?"

"Whatever," Tanaka said. "Trivia, gossip, stories... Even those boring old films you like."

So Chikara talked. At first he felt a bit stupid, since it wasn't exactly a conversation — Tanaka only replied infrequently, focusing more on regulating his breathing — but as he got used to it, he found himself chattering away about anything that came to mind: random facts about bridges gave way to anecdotes from his academy days, and then he drew upon things from earlier in his life, talking about his family and his childhood. By the time they reached the end of the bridge, Chikara was mid-way through telling Tanaka about a film project he'd done while at school.

"It was fun, you know?" he said. "Getting a script together, casting the roles, thinking up special effects and camera angles and stuff. Okay, editing was pretty boring, but it's great when you finally get the scenes to match up with the image in your head, like your imagination is coming to life. And even though I was nervous when we first showed it, the response —" He stopped when he noticed Tanaka grinning. "What's so funny?"

"You as a director," he panted. "Figures."

"Hmph. I'll take that as a compliment." Chikara pulled out his datapad with one hand and checked the time and position. They weren't far off now. There was a message from Kinoshita too; not long after they'd started, Chikara had asked him to organise a little welcoming party for the finishing line. It had been a tough day and they were all off duty now, so why not take the opportunity to unwind? According to Kinoshita, everything was set, so he tapped out a quick message to give him an ETA. It would be Tanaka's reward for completing his run.

"Ever wish you'd done that instead?" Tanaka asked him.

Startled out of his thoughts, Chikara put the datapad away and shook his head. "What, going into the movie business?"

"Yeah."

Chikara sighed. "More so recently," he admitted.

To be fair, even before the current crisis, he'd occasionally wondered whether he'd made a mistake. Enlisting had been something of an impulsive decision, made back during the height of the Second Neo-Zeon Conflict when he'd been inspired to do something noble and worthwhile with his life. But the reality wasn't always what he'd hoped for — even less so now, when they might come into conflict with other Federation units. He'd expected to fight Neo Zeon madmen like Char Aznable, not people who might have signed up for the same cause he had. People who had the same beliefs, the same duty, the same uniform... but maybe followed a less scrupulous commander than Captain Ukai.

Maybe he should cut his losses after the situation stabilised again. He was only 24; it wasn't too late to do something else.

He waited for a car to whizz past along the road then studied Tanaka for a moment, watching beads of sweat drip down his face. "What about you? Any regrets?"

Tanaka shrugged as he ran. "Plenty. But not about this."

"Oh? You sound pretty certain."

"I am," Tanaka replied breathlessly. "There's always someone wanting to pick a fight. And someone always has to stand up to them."

"Figures," Chikara said, smiling ruefully and regretting his earlier train of thought; Tanaka had put him to shame. "You really are an idealist in your own way, aren't you?"

Tanaka snorted and shot him a sideways glance. "Nah. I'm too simple-minded to be an idealist." Then he dropped back behind the bicycle and ran into the bushes lining the side of the road.

Coming to a stop, Chikara frowned after him. "Where are you going?"

"Taking a piss!" was Tanaka's response, though at least he was now largely concealed behind the foliage.

"So much for our heart to heart conversation," Chikara grumbled, leaning on the handlebars while he waited. "He finally acts serious for a change and then that. Damn your tiny bladder, Tanaka."

"Talking to your bike?" Tanaka asked, grinning as he emerged from the bushes.

Trying to ignore the way his face was heating up, Chikara gave him a stern glare and pointed down the road. "Keep moving," he said. "We don't have all day."

Although Sawamura's precise words had been "as long as it takes", so maybe he should be trying to stretch it out instead. It wasn't often that he got the opportunity to spend time alone with Tanaka. Normally Noya would be tagging along, or Kinoshita and Narita would be around, or Chikara would be lumbered with babysitting the other junior pilots. Why did he always have to get stuck with the rookies, anyway? Sometimes he wondered if Sawamura had some kind of grudge against him...

"Are we almost there?" Tanaka said a little later, looking around. "I think I recognise that skyscraper up ahead."

"Yes," Chikara said, consulting the map on his datapad. He'd tried to keep them off the main roads when navigating, though since it was late in the day, the traffic wasn't heavy anyway. For the finishing line, he'd selected a small park a short distance away from the bike hire place; not far now. "Take a left at the next junction, then right again after that." Then he sent a message ahead, warning the others of their impending arrival.

He smiled as they rounded the final corner, even though he knew his peace and quiet was coming to an end. Up ahead, their friends had prepared an ersatz finishing line: a green ribbon stretched across the gate to the park, Kinoshita holding one end and Fukunaga the other. Seeing them approach, Noya darted over to run alongside Tanaka, cheering him on. Yamamoto pressed play on a portable stereo propped up on his shoulder, a victorious sports anthem belting out at top volume. Meanwhile Narita stood ready behind the line with a cooler full of food and drink, a towel, and a change of clothes.

Tanaka was laughing, accelerating to race Noya to the finish line; even exhausted as he was, he still won (or, more likely, Noya let him win), diving through the ribbon like he'd just won a gold medal.

"Awesome!" he yelled, pausing to catch his breath while Noya and Yamamoto danced around him, singing along to the song.

Chikara climbed off his bicycle and gave Kinoshita a thumbs up and a grin. "Nice work."

"You made good time," Kinoshita replied, rolling his eyes when Tanaka stripped off his shirt and began swirling it around in the air, joining Noya and Yamamoto in some kind of impromptu victory dance. It involved several three-way high fives and chest bumps, one of which nearly sent Noya sprawling.

"You know how stubborn he can get," Chikara said, watching the display with the familiar mix of fondness and exasperation that only his rambunctious friends could trigger.

Kinoshita eyed him knowingly. "This was a nice idea though." He started rolling up the ribbon, wrapping it into a ball. "Very... thoughtful of you."

Chikara jabbed him in the side. "Shut up."

Laughing, Kinoshita hopped out of range. "You should probably stop staring, by the way."

Sighing, Chikara took one last look and then held his hand over his eyes in exaggerated indignation. "Tanaka!" he shouted, raising his voice to be heard above the ruckus. "Put some clothes on before you get arrested! And turn the music down to something more reasonable."

In response, Tanaka bounded up and wrapped sweaty arms around their shoulders. "You guys are the best," he said breathlessly. "Seriously, this is awesome. Thank you."

"Thank Chikara,"  Kinoshita said. "It was his idea. Personally I expected we'd need a stretcher, or even a coffin."

"No way!" Tanaka said, shoving him away playfully. "I bet I could do another lap right now if I wanted." He raised an arm into the air and whooped with elation, releasing Chikara before dashing over to give more high fives to Narita and Fukunaga.

Chikara watched him go, shaking his head. How was this his life?

 

* * *

 

Although seeing all his friends celebrate his return had given him an energy boost, letting him forget the way his blistered feet felt like lead and his lungs burned with every breath, sitting down brought it all crashing back. Ryuu groaned, flopping spread-eagled on the grass, and closed his eyes. Even his arms felt like noodles, and despite dumping a bottle of water over his head, he was still overheated.

They'd set up their impromptu picnic in a pleasant little park, which they had almost entirely to themselves; the only other people present were a couple walking a dog near a memorial of some kind on the far side. Even so, after he'd returned his rented bike, Ennoshita had forcibly taken possession of the stereo so that he could turn it down to a quieter volume, not wanting to disturb the neighbourhood too much. But apart from that Ennoshita seemed unusually chilled, willing to let them all sit around in the evening sun and enjoy themselves for a while. They'd even somehow smuggled a few bottles of beer along and Narita was passing out food as well — delicious fresh stuff all bought locally.

Ryuu had the best friends.

"Here, Ryuu," Noya said, poking him in the side with a bottle.

With another groan, Ryuu sat up, took the proffered bottle, and gulped some down. Deciding he was still too hot, he pulled off the t-shirt he'd changed into and folded it into a pillow before lying back down and resting the chilled bottle on his chest. He'd already taken off his socks and running shoes, letting the fresh air soothe his mangled toes.

"Are you allergic to clothing or something?" Ennoshita asked, exasperated.

Ryuu gave him a lazy grin and gulped down some more beer. "I'm hot," he said, prompting Kinoshita to choke on his own drink when he started laughing. "I'll only drench it with sweat if I wear it now."

Ennoshita rolled his eyes, but he was definitely feeling more mellow than usual because he didn't argue further. "As long as you put it back on before we leave."

Of course, Ryuu being the trend-setter he was, Noya, Tora, and even Kinoshita followed suit, stretching out on the grass and basking in the sun.

"You'll fry," Narita warned them. "You're not used to actual sunlight."

"We'll be okay for a while," Noya said, folding his hands behind his head and beaming up at the window opposite. "I might even get a tan!" He sat up suddenly, glancing down at his legs. "Should we —"

_"No_ ," Ennoshita said firmly. "Keep your trousers on, please."

"Aww." But he lay back down again, his smile returning. "Glad Daichi can't see us now. He'd blow his top."

Drinking some more beer, Ryuu relaxed into the grass. "He's probably just stressed out."

"Hard to blame him," Ennoshita agreed. He was sitting upright, resting his arms on his knees, with a bottle of beer and a pork bun in his hands. "There's a lot going on, not just that disaster of a training exercise this afternoon."

Tora cleared his throat. "Yeah, you Karasuno guys did kinda implode," he said. "I figured you'd have pulled things together by now. I wouldn't mind but you brought Nekoma down with you too."

"Fundamental incompatibilities," Fukunaga declared. He blinked when everyone stopped to look at him curiously. "That's what Kenma said," he explained, tilting his head. "Like mixing bomb ingredients together."

"Hey, that's a bit unfair," Kinoshita complained, sitting up. "Today was a bad day, that's all."

Noya laughed. "We just need to figure out how to explode in the right direction!" he said cheerfully, demonstrating with his hands and some added sound effects. "Then we can blast the Loyalists away in one go."

"Yeah, but we all get blown up in the process," Narita pointed out. "No thanks, Noya."

Ryuu swatted Noya, who was lying next to him, and gestured to the cooler. Noya reached in and passed him a pork bun without even having to be asked, because he was awesome like that. "Doesn't help that we're combining the teams together," he commented while he chewed. "I mean, we'd barely had chance to get used to our own team, and now we're mixing with you guys."

"And whose fault is that?" Tora muttered, earning himself a dark look from Ennoshita.

"Excuse me for having a conscience," Ennoshita said, sipping his beer. "I'm sorry that's inconvenient for you."

It had been the best compromise they could come up with. Some pilots — on both teams — were unhappy at the prospect of fighting other Federation soldiers, so between them, Sawamura and Kuroo had agreed to shuffle their defensive formation around. Pilots like Ennoshita, Narita, and Kinoshita, who were uneasy with it all, were assigned to the rear-guard: a last ditch defence of their two motherships and the colony. Everyone else was merged together to form a sort of super-team, filling in the gaps left by the rear-guard's absence.

But rather than being the best of both worlds, it was more like the worst. Everyone was having to get used to being in different positions or working with different people, not to mention the difficulty of meshing the very different tactics typically used by Nekoma and Karasuno.

Tora propped himself up on his elbows to glare at Ennoshita. "Is that what you'd tell the survivors from the colony if they got attacked? 'Sorry for the inconvenience'?"

Ryuu almost wished he'd kept his t-shirt on, because it felt like the temperature had suddenly dropped. He sat up, glancing between Ennoshita and Tora. "Look guys, chill, okay? We're supposed to be relaxing here for a change."

"Sorry," Tora said, slumping back. "It's frustrating, that's all. Like trying to fight with one hand tied behind your back."

"So it's a bit more of a challenge," Noya said cheerfully. "Who said anything has to be easy?"

Tora grunted with irritation, nodding his head behind them at a tall office building that overlooked the park. "When you're trying to protect a few million innocent civvies, you don't want to make things harder than they have to be, Noya."

They fell into an awkward silence, eating and drinking while the music played quietly in the background. It was only when the song finished and the DJ started speaking that Ryuu realised it was switched to a local radio channel. He listened in, curious, but the DJ only gave a couple of minor updates — an accident blocking one lane of one of the colony's bridges, and a reminder of an upcoming music festival — before introducing the next song.

"I wish we knew more about what was going on outside," he grumbled. "It's one thing fighting one-handed, another thing fighting blind."

Narita sighed, scrunching up the wrapper for his sandwich roll and tossing it into the cooler. "I know what you mean. Feels like everyone's lined up, pointing guns at each other, just waiting for the signal to start shooting."

"Could be worse," Kinoshita said. "They could already be shooting."

Ryuu turned to Ennoshita, who was staring into his bottle morosely. "Think they'll agree to some kind of negotiation, Ennoshita?" he asked hopefully.

The question must have taken Ennoshita by surprise, because he blinked in confusion for a few seconds. "What? Negotiation? I've no idea." He shrugged, waving the bottle idly. "Why do you always expect me to have the answers, Tanaka?"

"'Cos you're the smart one," Noya said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Duh." He was still sprawled out on the grass, apparently unbothered by the grim conversation. Noya usually believed that things would work themselves out as long as you tried your best, and Ryuu liked to think that too, but he also knew that sometimes your best wasn't always good enough.

"Doesn't Sawamura tell you stuff?" he asked. "You're a squad leader, after all. Not like us mere grunts."

Ennoshita's cheeks were pink as he shifted around to sit cross-legged, facing the others. "He tells me what I need to know, but that's assuming he knows anything more himself. From what I can tell, our bosses are just as much in the dark as everyone else."

"The blind leading the blind," Fukunaga commented, apparently amused by the idea if his face was anything to go by. But then Ryuu always found him difficult to read; he was a bit odd at times.

"That's reassuring," Kinoshita said, and unlike Fukunaga, his displeasure was obvious. He gulped down the rest of his beer, stifling a burp, and scowled. "What about all the other ships that opposed martial law? And that new government in exile we keep hearing about? They've gotta know something, right?"

"It sounds like Side 1 is firmly opposed to the Junta, yeah. And they'll have their own local comms network set up there by now. Maybe extending to Side 6 as well," Ennoshita replied. "But everyone else is probably struggling to work around the communications blackout just like we are. I think Nekomata has been in contact with them, trying to coordinate, but I doubt anyone has the full picture right now."

"Like trying to make a jigsaw, except you don't know what it looks like and two thirds of the pieces are trying to kill you," Ryuu said, winning a chuckle from Noya and Tora.

Even Ennoshita gave him a brief smile. "That's one way of putting it."

The grim conversation was cut short when Tora spotted a trio of pretty young women taking a shortcut through the park. "Heads up, we got incoming," he said eagerly.

Like a mob of meerkats, they all sat up and turned in their direction.

"Don't just stare at them!" Ennoshita complained, standing up and moving to block their view. "Do you have any idea how creepy you must all look right now?"

"You're right!" Noya said, leaping to his feet. "I'll go beg forgiveness."

Ennoshita made a grab for him but it was too late; he was dashing across the grass towards the women, coming to a stop in front of them and bowing deeply. It was too far to hear what he was saying, but after their initial surprise and a few confused glances at the rest of them, the women appeared to give in to Noya's inevitable charms. Maybe it also helped that he was shirtless? Ryuu made a mental note to test out that theory at some point.

"Noya is so cool," Tora muttered enviously. "How does he do that?"

"What, talk to women like they're normal human beings?" Ennoshita asked, throwing up his hands as he sat back down. "Gee, I wonder."

Less than a minute later, Noya was trotting back over, grinning like he'd just won the lottery. He held up his datapad triumphantly. "Three contacts! From Ana, Hiyori, and Sakura."

Kinoshita groaned and pulled out his datapad, swiping it towards Narita with a huff of disappointment. "Dammit," he said.

"What?" Tora asked him.

"He bet me that Noya would get slapped," Narita said, checking his own datapad smugly.

"Oh ye of little faith," Noya said, moving over to pat Kinoshita on the head like a pet dog. "Do you really think so little of me?"

"In his defence," Ennoshita pointed out wryly, "your track record is 50/50 at best." He sighed and sat back down again, flat on his back with one arm draped over his face. "Why me..."

"At least _some_ of the locals are friendly," Ryuu said, after he'd reverently inspected the new names in Noya's contact list. "The ones we ran into were more likely to pick a fight."

"Really?" Noya asked, frowning. "Someone wanted to pick a fight with _you_?"

Some kind of strangled laugh emerged from under Ennoshita's arm. "He's not _that_ intimidating."

"Oh really?" Kinoshita said. "I seem to remember you thinking differently when you and Tanaka first met." He turned to Narita, scratching his cheek in mock confusion. "What was it he said?"

Narita adopted a thoughtful expression. "Something about the navy sending us convicts?"

"Death row convicts, yes, that was it," Kinoshita agreed. He ducked, narrowly dodging the empty beer bottle that Ennoshita had thrown at his head, and grinned. "I think he was worried Tanaka might murder him in his sleep."

Ryuu turned a glare on Ennoshita, who had retreated behind his arm again. "I still might," he growled.

"Sorry, Tanaka," Ennoshita admitted, peeking over his arm; his face was bright red. "Though in my defence, you're not great at first impressions."

Fukunaga hummed thoughtfully. "A book cover that looks like it wants to bite you," he said, grinning at Tanaka. "I thought you wanted to fight Tora when we first met."

Tora laughed. "So did I."

"Why is everyone suddenly ganging up on me?" Ryuu complained, letting his shoulders slump.

"Don't worry, Ryuu," Noya said, sitting cross-legged and flashing a fierce grin at him. "I think you've got a great look. Intimidating, like a warrior should be. I bet they're all just jealous."

Ryuu reached over to clink their bottles together. "Thanks, bro."

They stayed in the park for another hour or so, relaxing and chatting. For Ryuu, it was a relief just to be off the ship for a change; much as he loved the _Karasuno_ , being stuck in the simulator pods day after day was starting to feel like some sort of prison. He hadn't even minded running around the colony that much — sure, it'd been exhausting, and he was sure his legs were going to be almost useless tomorrow, but the fresh air and greenery of the colony had come as a welcome change. Plus he got to spend the evening with his friends, so all in all, he'd had worse days.

But the light was fading fast, the food and drink was all gone, and they still had to get back to their ships, so they only put up a token protest when Ennoshita finally chivvied them up. After tidying after themselves and giving Ryuu time to remember how to walk again (his legs had _really_ stiffened up, and without his shoes on, the blisters had swollen even more), they ambled back onto the street and headed back towards the spaceport.

"Are you sure you're okay, Ryuu? We could always take the bus. Or even get a taxi," Narita suggested, frowning as he watched him limp along with one steadying hand on Noya's shoulder.

"I'm good," Ryuu replied, shaking his head. "We're not in a hurry, right?" Despite his aches, he'd rather make the most of the evening outside. Tomorrow they'd go back to sweating away inside the simulator pods, so every extra second he could spend enjoying himself with his friends was worth the pain.

Ennoshita gave him a knowing look. "You might change your tune when we have to climb up the hill to the spaceport," he said, smiling lopsidedly. "But since you insist, we'll walk for now."

The sounds of a city, even this late in the day, were very different to those onboard the _Karasuno_. When the ship was underway, there might be a constant background buzz from the vibration of the engines, but otherwise it was nearly silent most of the time. Maybe a rattle from the ventilation, or the distant clang of someone dropping something heavy, or the hum of electronics. Artificial sounds.

But a city felt _alive_ by comparison, and Ryuu revelled in it. It was even enough to distract him from the pain in his legs. The whine of electric vehicles driving by, the slam of doors opening and closing, the bass of loud music somewhere nearby, the occasional caw of birds flapping overhead... and the ever-present sound of people being people. Talking. Singing. Bickering. Laughing. They passed apartment blocks and shops and bars and restaurants, all with their own unique noises, all so full of life.

If he hadn't already been listening to it all, tuning out his friends' chatter, he might have missed the scream.

"Stop," he said, holding up his free hand. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear wh—" Kinoshita began.

"Shh!"

Everyone did as he asked as Ryuu held his breath and tried to pick out anything else unusual. In the sudden bubble of silence, even his heartbeat felt loud, thumping quickly in his chest. He grimaced in frustration as all that wonderful noisy life around them now interfered, making it impossible to pin down any further sounds of alarm.

"What was it?" Ennoshita whispered, after several seconds of confused quiet.

Ryuu turned and met his eyes. "A scream, I think."

"What kind of scream?"

"The bad kind. Someone in trouble." Ryuu bit his lip and tried to replay it in his head, trying to decide where it came from. "That way," he said, pointing across the street.

Kinoshita raised an eyebrow. "Sure you didn't just imagine it?"

"Could it had been from a viewscreen or someone playing a game?" Fukunaga added.

Ennoshita's narrowed eyes were still on Ryuu. "It's not far out of our way," he said, nodding as he made his decision. "We can go take a look. Everyone listen out for anything else, just in case."

They crossed the road, hurrying through a gap in the traffic, and found a small alley to cut through to the next street. Kinoshita and Tora had been muttering complaints about wild goose chases, but as they neared the end of the alleyway, even they could hear it: a confrontation of some kind. Raised voices. Yells of anger and cries of fear.

It wasn't as though they were in a sketchy part of town; they were actually pretty close to the main plaza in the centre, and the buildings around them were mostly upmarket apartments with some boutique stores and posh restaurants further down the road. Not the sort of place you'd expect to see much crime, except maybe a bold pickpocket during the busier parts of the day. But now the well-lit streets were fairly quiet, with no threatening groups huddled in dark doorways or anything like that.

But there was no mistaking what they'd heard. Speeding up, they ran (or limped) in the direction of the commotion, crossing the next road as well and turning down a narrow street to find the source of the noise.

"Narita, call the police," Ennoshita said as they hurried over. "And start recording!"

In the centre of the empty road were five or six young civilians, a mix of women and men. One guy was on the ground, rolling in pain and clutching his face; one of the women was kneeling as she tried to help him, pale with fear, while one of the other men had planted himself in front of them both, wielding a wooden sign like a spear in an attempt to defend them.

The attackers were all soldiers, split into in two groups. Five stood in a loose semicircle facing the civilians, with their backs to Ryuu and his friends, jeering and throwing what looked like eggs. Another group of four soldiers — including the only woman amongst them — had cut off their escape route to the rear, closing in from behind.

One had a gun.

"Oi! What the fuck is going on here?" Tora yelled, coming to a stop a couple of paces away from the soldiers.

The nearest group of soldiers turned, suddenly uncertain, but the civilians seemed even less happy to see them.

"Why can't you just leave us alone?" the nervous guy with the sign complained. "It's our right to protest! We don't want you here!"

Lining up beside Tora and glaring at the nearest soldier with his most fearsome expression, Ryuu raised his chin. "Better have a good explanation for this, sonny." He scanned the guy's uniform, his frown deepening as he realised that this wasn't a garrison trooper after all: he was wearing naval insignia and a _Nekoma_ patch on his arm. "Wait, what?"

And then everything went to hell.

A thundering stampede of footsteps announced the arrival of at least a dozen more civilians at the other end of the street, several carrying signs like the man who'd spoken earlier. They shouted and pointed when they saw what was going on, already whipped up into an angry frenzy, and charged with a collective roar that echoed off the buildings to either side.

The four soldiers nearest the newcomers took one look and fled. The one with the gun fired wildly over his shoulder into the crowd, hitting at least two people, and the others shoved at the civilians in the middle as they ran past.

One of the five standing in front of Ryuu took something out of his pocket, and when he pulled a pin out of it, Ryuu's heart nearly ejected from his mouth. " _Grenade!"_ he yelled, throwing himself towards it, but all he got was a faceful of thick, white smoke and an elbow to the cheek. Coughing, he crouched and tried to find the smoke grenade on the ground, but only succeeded in hitting it with his fingers by accident, sending it skittering away over the asphalt.

Someone collided with him, knocking him over, and screams of terror filled the street as the smoke cloud expanded. He didn't even know which way was which, could barely see his own feet, but he pushed himself upright and called out. "Where is everyone?"

"Ryuu!"

"C'mon, our ride's here!"

"Stop them!"

"Help! Help, please, we need a doctor!"

"Don't let them get away!"

Ryuu followed the first voice he'd heard — Noya's — and found him clinging like a limpet to the back of one of the soldiers, biting and punching and snarling. The soldier was a big guy, well over 185cm, and Noya's blows didn't seem to be having much effect... but Ryuu's kick to the back of his knee certainly did. Both the soldier and Noya went down in a heap, but then something hard walloped Ryuu on the side of his head.

Dazed, with his head and ears ringing like a bell, he realised he'd dropped to his knees. He turned dizzily as he rose, blocking a follow-up blow with his forearm — wincing with the pain of it — and realised it was the civilian with the sign from earlier. 'Warmongers not Welcome!' it said, in dripping red paint made to look like blood, and splattered egg was slowly dripping down the side of the man's face.

"Oi! I'm on your side!" Ryuu tried to tell him, but he wasn't listening. His face was dark with fear and fury as he raised the sign again, preparing to strike. Ryuu grabbed at it, shoving at the guy with his shoulder as he tried to wrench it out of his grip, but with the smoke in his eyes and his legs shaky from his run earlier, he lost his footing and fell. He took a kick to the side, grunting in pain, and rolled away to avoid another.

By now the smoke was starting to thin out and he could hear sirens approaching, but when he looked up to find three angry civilians looming over him, Ryuu's stomach sank.

And as he rose to meet them, fists raised to defend himself, all he could think was: _Damn, Sawamura is going to be so mad..._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, the song Tora was playing was _Eye of the Tiger_. ;)


	12. Analysis

"You pilots certainly know how to find trouble, don't you?" Chan remarked as she led them along the corridor.

"It's the first lesson at the academy," Kuroo replied, though the tension in his voice ruined any attempt at banter. Not that Chan was in a receptive mood either; she stalked down the corridor at a furious pace, chewing violently on her gum.

Daichi sighed. "Sorry, Inspector," he said. "I'm beginning to feel like a harbinger of doom — every time we meet, I bring fresh problems for you. But I appreciate you helping us out with this."

Chan glanced at him over her shoulder. "I'm not just doing you a favour, Sawamura. Sounds like this may be part of my case after all."

"What? How?"

"I'll explain later," she said, pushing open a door to a sort of visitors' lounge area. It had all the trappings of a typical waiting room: coffee table in the middle with well-thumbed copies of weeks-old magazines, a noisy vending machine humming in the corner, and a series of scruffy benches along the walls, worn down by a thousand anxious buttocks.

Currently wearing new grooves into the benches were five of the seven pilots who'd been arrested, and all of them jumped to their feet and snapped to attention as Daichi and Kuroo entered. Along with quite a few of the civilians, Fukunaga and Kinoshita had been taken to a local hospital to get checked out: Fukunaga with a suspected concussion and Kinoshita with possible broken ribs. Suga and Yaku had already gone to check on things there.

Though now that he could see them, Daichi wondered if the other five should have gone to the hospital too. They'd been cleaned up a little, but all sported a variety of dark bruises, scabbed-over cuts, swollen faces, and torn clothes. Narita looked to have come off lightest, while Tanaka could have passed for a boxer coming off a knockout loss in the twelfth round. He was slowest to stand and even now was swaying slightly.

They were such a pitiful sight that the anger Daichi had been vigorously stoking on the journey there immediately cooled. "Sit down," he told them instead, gesturing wearily at the benches. "Just... sit down."

Kuroo glanced at him in confusion, perhaps expecting an explosion, but Daichi no longer had the energy for it. He'd already yelled at them once that day. And from what he'd heard, they'd been trying to help, not pick another fight. The last time some of his pilots had spotted something wrong, they'd managed to prevent the spacedock from being blown up, so he couldn't blame this lot for going to investigate. He would probably have done the same himself.

Even so...

"Rest assured, you're not off the hook yet," Daichi said, injecting enough force into his tone to sound appropriately stern — though it took some effort. "Commander Kuroo or I will be having strong words with each of you. But that can wait. For now, will somebody please explain how you ended up brawling with a gang of anti-military protesters?" He'd already got the gist from Chan, but he wanted to hear it from them himself, in their own words.

As one, they all looked to Ennoshita, who winced. After swallowing and clearing his throat, he spoke up. "It started when Tanaka heard a scream," he said, his eyes on the floor.

Ennoshita went on to explain what happened — taking pains to point out that they'd called the police themselves and definitely hadn't intended to get into a fight — but he didn't try to make excuses. He readily admitted that once the smoke grenade went off and the civilians started lashing out at anyone wearing a uniform, they'd been forced to defend themselves. It had only been broken up when the police arrived and arrested everyone.

"Again, we offer our deepest apologies for what happened," Ennoshita finished, looking up at Inspector Chan. "I hope there were no serious injuries?"

"Other than the two who got shot, you mean?" she said sharply, but then she shook her head. "Nothing life-threatening. But considering you were supposedly acting out of self-defence, you guys certainly didn't hold back."

Ennoshita hung his head, saying nothing.

"When it comes to combat, our training tends to emphasise, uh, neutralising the enemy's ability to fight back," Daichi said, as diplomatically as he could. Honestly, the outcome wasn't surprising: even unarmed and outnumbered as they were, a handful of soldiers were going to be more than a match for a small mob of civilians. Maybe they could have tried harder to talk the protesters down or withdraw with a minimum of violence, but Daichi wasn't going to waste time second-guessing his pilots. They'd been there in the heat of the moment and he hadn't.

Chan just gave him a raised eyebrow, chewing all the while.

"As delightfully awkward as this is," Kuroo said as he ran a hand through his hair, "I'd really like to know who those other soldiers were. You said they were wearing _Karasuno_ and _Nekoma_ patches?" He addressed the question to Ennoshita, but Ennoshita looked to Tanaka instead.

"I don't know about all of them," Tanaka said, his voice little more than a nasal lisp thanks to his swollen face, "but at least some did. I saw a _Nekoma_ one up close — no mistaking that black cat."

Kuroo exchanged a worried glance with Daichi before turning to Chan. "Any luck tracking them down?"

"Not yet," she said, taking the opportunity to spit out her gum into the waste bin. "But that's what I wanted to talk to you about." She gave Ennoshita, Tanaka, and the others a significant look and then raised her eyebrows at Daichi, a silent question.

"I'm fine with them staying to hear if you are," he replied.

"Makes no difference to me." Taking a seat on one of the benches on the opposite side of the room from the pilots, she made herself comfortable and crossed her legs. "We've taken enough witness statements and checked enough security camera footage to verify your pilots' story, which is why they're here and not in holding cells. It sounds like they stumbled on an ambush. Some soldiers had been taunting a group of youngsters heading home from a protest — jeering at them, throwing eggs, generally being douchebags — and when the protesters finally got mad and gave chase, they led them down a small side street. One with no cameras. Then another group came out of a nearby alley to cut them off from behind."

Daichi folded his arms. He was not liking where this was going one bit. "Closing the trap."

Chan nodded. "Bingo. But to what end? We estimate there were a couple of thousand protesters in Sendai Square earlier today, most of whom were heading home at the same time. I don't care how good your hand-to-hand combat training is — nine or so soldiers can't expect to win against a hundred angry protesters, not even with a pistol and a smoke grenade. More protesters arrived just after your pilots did, and there would have been dozens more after that if our officers hadn't shown up and calmed things down when they did." She frowned at the bruised quintet opposite her. "You were lucky to get out of it in one piece. Though not _that_ lucky, since you wandered into the mess in the first place. I honestly can't decide whether you're blessed or cursed."

"Probably both," Kuroo said, moving to sit down as well. He took a bench in the middle, between Chan and the others, allowing him to see everyone at once. His legs were long enough for him to prop his boots up on the coffee table, crossed at the ankle. "You said you caught someone else?"

Chan harrumphed and pointed a finger gun at Noya. "When the patrol cars reached the scene, this little guy had somehow pinned one of the instigators down. Dislocated his shoulder, even." Noya beamed, utterly unrepentant. "He had no ID on him, but we ran his prints. No match in the military records, so we checked local records. Turns out he's just some farmer — Hachirou Matsuoka. Usually works out in the agricultural pods." She sniffed in dissatisfaction. "To make sure, we sent his picture and details to both your ships, but unless your bosses are lying, he's no crewman."

Daichi rubbed at his temples and leant back against the wall by the door. "So what — he was just dressed up in a naval uniform?"

She fished out a fresh stick of gum and popped it in her mouth. "Guess so. We've moved him to a secure location — after what happened last time, we're taking no chances — and we'll see what he has to say for himself. But doesn't it remind you a lot of those bombers dressed up as dockworkers?"

Kuroo groaned. "As if things weren't bad enough. I can picture tomorrow's tabloid headlines already. 'Protesters trapped and traumatised by taunting troops.' As if enough people weren't against us already."

"Wait," Ennoshita said, holding up an unsteady hand. "Wait. Are you saying what I think you're saying? That this is all just some plot to discredit us?"

"And that it's the same people behind the bombing?" Noya demanded, pressing his fists tightly against his knees.

Chan shrugged. "I'm saying a bunch of fools dressed up as soldiers and picked a fight with some protesters. Anything beyond that is speculation right now. But let's just say I find it all very suspicious."

"At least they weren't carrying a bomb this time," Daichi said, but he could see what Kuroo meant. It might not be an actual bomb, but it would explode nonetheless. If someone had managed to orchestrate it deliberately... By any measure, it was a fiendishly cunning operation.

Although there hadn't been any more major incidents since the police station attack nearly two weeks ago, the relative tranquillity Miyagi once enjoyed had been shattered. Stories in the local media about the bombing attempt and the police station had pointed the finger at Loyalist sympathisers in the garrison. Plenty of people were concerned that they might try again, with more innocent civilians caught up in the middle. And the fact that the man with the rocket launcher was still at large after all this time — indeed, still unidentified — put people on edge, wondering when and where he might strike again.

As a result, protests of all kinds had been growing. Clashes between those who supported the warships (and, by extension, the Rebels) and those who did not had led to more violence, even a small riot a few days ago when two opposing groups of protesters had started fighting.

And now this.

It was one thing for people to be suspicious of the garrison; after all, it was a fact that two of them _had_ been amongst the bombers who tried to blow up the spacedock, and the rocket launcher had almost certainly come from there too. But if people thought the sailors from the warships were just as bad, then it wouldn't just be about Rebels versus Junta loyalists — it would be about Miyagi versus the military. _Any_ military.

"What happened to the rest of those fake soldiers, anyway?" Yamamoto asked. "How did they even get away?"

"Looks like a van arrived shortly after you did and picked them up while the smoke distracted everyone," Chan explained, shaking her head. "We've been trying to trace its path and figure out where it went, but no luck so far. Gotta admit, it was all pretty smoothly planned out."

There was a long pause in which everyone considered the implications of that; judging by their grim, troubled expressions, nobody found it any more reassuring than Daichi did.

He unfolded his arms and rolled his neck. This was going to be another long night. "Inspector, if you don't need our pilots any longer, I'd like to send them back to their ships. I'm sure they'd appreciate the chance to rest."

"Suits me," Chan said. "I'd rather have these trouble magnets as far from me as possible. Just remember, they're not necessarily off the hook yet. We might want to question them again, and I can't promise there won't be any charges."

They all reacted differently to that. Ennoshita went still and closed his eyes; Noya bristled like he was about to jump back into a fight again; Yamamoto grimaced like he'd eaten something disgusting, while Tanaka dropped his head and sighed.

Narita, on the other hand, cleared his throat. "Um, what about Kinoshita? And Fukunaga? Are they okay?"

Kuroo, who had at some point taken out his datapad, looked up from it. "They're both fine. Or at least in no worse state than the rest of you. Yaku says the hospital is going to discharge them shortly."

"Alright then," Daichi said, clapping his hands decisively. "In that case, you can all go back together. Inspector, can you organise some transport? We'll make sure there's a team waiting to escort them through the spaceport."

"What for?" Noya asked, frowning.

"To keep you out of any more trouble."

"Sure," Chan said, getting to her feet. "I'll be back shortly." With a wry grin at the other pilots, she added, "Don't go anywhere."

The moment the door closed behind her, Ennoshita stood. "Commander, I'm so sorry. This was all my fault."

"No, Ennoshita, it wasn't," Daichi said, moving over to rest a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at the others, letting his gaze settle on each of them before moving on. "I'm not too happy about the impromptu party — Tanaka's run was supposed to be a punishment, not an excuse for a boozy celebration — but I can't fault you for going to investigate sounds of trouble." Meeting Ennoshita's eyes, he added, "You made the right call. I would have done the same."

"Me too," Kuroo chipped in. "Sometimes you can make the right choice and still fail, but it's better than making the wrong choice. What if you'd walked on by and those fake soldiers had taken it further? If you hadn't interrupted them, people might have died."

Sitting down again, Ennoshita rested his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands. "Doesn't change the fact that we've got a huge scandal to deal with," he said, voice muffled.

"That's our problem, not yours," Daichi told him. "Now, I want you all back aboard your ships and resting, okay? Especially you, Tanaka. You look like you just lost a boxing match."

"I could go another round," he mumbled, with a smile that revealed at least one missing tooth.

Rolling his eyes fondly, Daichi held out a hand for a fist bump, which Tanaka returned (gingerly). "Make sure you all pay a visit to medbay as well. We don't know what might happen next, so I need you all back in top form as soon as possible."

 

* * *

 

Daichi half-expected to be frozen out of the investigation. Unlike last time, the police were clearly not happy with them; even if their pilots had been trying to help, a bunch of civilians had ended up hurt. But despite being a little more brusque than usual, Chan allowed him and Kuroo to tag along.

Once they'd seen the others off, bundled miserably into the back of a police transport and sent home, Chan drove them to another police station. Evidently, with the main police HQ still out of action, its former occupants had been dispersed to smaller police stations across the city. "Slumming it," as Chan put it.

"Like I said, we've taken the one guy we caught to a secure safe house," she explained as she took them to a cluttered office. "It would not be secure for long if someone saw soldiers and police coming and going all the time. But we can watch from here." A second desk had been crammed in, with stacks of files sat on both of them, and in one corner stood a tall potted plant in dire need of a good watering. Commander Takeda was already present, along with another police officer who introduced herself as Chief Inspector Akiko Nishimura.

"Welcome to my humble abode," she said wryly. "Make yourselves as comfortable as you can."

On one of the viewscreens, an interrogation was taking place. Noya had obviously not been gentle when restraining Matsuoka, who looked to have a broken nose in addition to an impressive set of bruises, but he'd been patched up by medics and was slouching in his chair opposite two more police officers. They looked to be sitting at a dinner table in an ordinary house or apartment; not exactly the most professional or intimidating setting, but Daichi could understand the need for caution.

Besides, Matsuoka appeared more than eager to talk.

"They just pointed out what happened to the last two we caught," Nishimura whispered when he asked about it. "Since then he's been very cooperative."

" _— gotta protect me, right?_ " Matsuoka was saying. " _It's your job. And I didn't even do anything, not really. Just threw a few eggs!"_

_"Answer our questions and we'll do our best to keep you safe,"_ one of the police officers said gruffly — an older man, with grey at his temples.

At which point Matsuoka spilled everything he knew, often without prompting. He told them how he'd been attending after-work meetings of like-minded people, and how someone had suggested they could strike back at the "Rebel traitors" in other ways too — like by framing them for beating up some protesters. No, he couldn't name most of the other people present, and didn't know the person who had spoken, but he could tell them where and when (a private room in a karaoke bar, three nights ago) and would name those he did know. No, he didn't know who organised it all — just that after he volunteered, he'd get instructions sent to him. Yes, he'd show them on his datapad, but the messages came from an unknown contact. The uniforms and weapons were in the van that collected them from the rendezvous point, and they'd had to stick on the ship badges themselves. Then shortly before the protest ended, they received final instructions and went to rough up the protesters. No, he didn't know who all the other impostors were, but he did think at least one was from the garrison because he'd given them tips on how to act like real soldiers.

"Wish all confessions were this easy," Chan murmured.

But as Daichi watched, perched uncomfortably on the windowsill with his arms folded, a cold shiver of apprehension ran through him. It felt like an ice cube sliding down his spine. He'd known some people were unhappy with the warships' presence at Miyagi, protesting about it in front of the government buildings in the main plaza. And he'd known _someone_ was out there, the person who had blown up the police station.

But Chan had been right about her suspicions: this was something much bigger. This wasn't just a handful of angry people; this was an _organisation_. Although Daichi had little experience with the covert operations side of the military, like the semi-mythical ECOAS special ops branch, what Matsuoka was describing sounded eerily similar to some of what little he _did_ know about it: people divided into separate cells, kept ignorant of each other's identities, with instructions handed down from above by handlers. Striking at the enemy however they could, even in small ways. Asymmetrical warfare, in other words.

It was almost like a resistance movement, like those that had sprung up back when Zeon had occupied much of Earth's territory, or when people were trying to resist the rule of the Titans a decade ago. But those had been resistance movements fighting against military occupation — against the bad guys. The whole point of the _Karasuno_ and _Nekoma_ being at Miyagi was to _prevent_ military occupation.

It unsettled Daichi that enough people saw him and his comrades as the enemy to wage a guerrilla war against them.

Matsuoka went on for almost an hour in the end. Evidently he hadn't expected anyone to get seriously hurt; as far as he was told, the plan was just to beat up some of the protesters. "Make it look good," he'd said. Then they were supposed to use the smoke grenade to cover their escape, change out of the uniforms, and disperse.

Eventually, when he ran out of steam, the detectives interviewing him agreed to give him a break. As one took him to the toilet while the other moved around the kitchen making coffee, Nishimura muted the display. "Thoughts?" she asked.

For a moment, nobody replied, each looking around the room at everyone else.

"Is it just me, or is this a lot more subtle?" Kuroo said finally. "I can see some disgruntled garrison troops wanting to blow us up. It's a straightforward mentality — see the enemy, try to kill them. But this is on a different level. It's much more indirect, attacking us from a direction we never anticipated and can't really defend against. Even if the garrison is involved somewhere, I don't think one of them planned this. I'm not sure _any_ soldier planned this — it's too far out of our line of thought."

Daichi nodded, feeling that cold shiver again. "It made me think of resistance movements, back during the One Year War and against the Titans. Except aimed against us this time."

Tapping a finger to his chin, Takeda hummed thoughtfully. "I'm not sure we were actually the targets this time," he said.

Nishimura frowned at him. "What? Why?" she said, glancing back at the viewscreen; Matsuoka was back now, but it didn't look like the interrogation was ready to resume. "They were deliberately dressed up as sailors from your ships, weren't they?"

"Yes," Takeda conceded, "but think about it. Assume the plan had gone perfectly. It casts us in a bad light, certainly, but as Kuroo said, it doesn't hurt us directly. It doesn't impair our ability to defend Miyagi from a potential Loyalist attack. The worst it is likely to do to us is put our people at risk of retaliatory crimes when visiting the colony — something we can avoid fairly easily by not wearing uniform or by staying aboard our ships. So think about it: if not us, who really suffers from this act? Aside from the protesters who got hurt, of course."

He watched them expectantly, smiling faintly like a teacher posing a question to his class, though there was no warmth in it.

Daichi was still trying to process everything he'd learnt in the past couple of hours, his brain full of different trains of thought smashing into each other, so he was glad when Chan put the pieces together first and saved him from having to answer.

"The Governor," she said, eyes widening. "Governor Ukai."

Takeda's smile widened briefly as he nodded at her. "Indeed. He's already having to walk a fine line, and this could put him in a very difficult position. We're here at his invitation, supporting his policies. Our mistakes, our bad behaviour — real or imagined — therefore reflects on him. If public opinion turns strongly enough against our presence here, he either has to back down and send us away — opening the door to the Junta and probably forcing his resignation in the process — or he has to reinforce his position by cracking down on the opposition and restoring security, effectively introducing a form of martial law of his own." With a helpless shrug, he added, "Either way, Governor Ukai loses. Along with the rest of Miyagi, arguably."

Daichi froze, the ice along his spine spreading to his chest. "Who?" he demanded. "Who has the wits and resources to do something like that?"

Nishimura glanced at Takeda, who sighed and pulled out his datapad. "I... actually have a theory about that," he admitted. He checked something on the datapad, reading quickly, then looked up again. "I've not been able to reach most of my former contacts and colleagues, thanks to the blocks in the comms network, but I was able to get through to a few and see if they could shed any light on what we're up against." With a questioning glance at Nishimura, who nodded permission, he tapped in a couple of commands and the viewscreen changed from the safe house kitchen to a personnel file. The only picture was a grainy, long-distance shot of a man in a busy crowd — security camera footage, maybe.

The name was 'The Silhouette'.

"I'd assumed that the 'Silhouette' we found in Larsson's calendar was a movement or an organisation of sorts." With a nod of acknowledgement towards Daichi, he said, "A resistance movement. But the name rang a bell for one of my old military intelligence colleagues. Assuming she's right, Silhouette isn't just an organisation — it's also a person. An operative, to be precise."

He stared grimly at the viewscreen, the light of it reflected in his glasses, and sighed.

"My friend wasn't able to provide much information, mainly because nobody knows that much to begin with," he went on. "We don't even know if that's actually him in the picture — or even if Silhouette is male at all. One of Silhouette's trademarks was regular use of high-quality disguises, even prosthetics. What we _do_ know is that there was an agent code-named Silhouette back during the One Year War, one of many tasked with resisting Zeon occupation on Earth, Luna, and in the colonies. Back then, there were plenty of, um, 'irregulars' in our service — mercenaries, essentially. Zeon employed them too, of course. And obviously, there was a great deal of espionage activity taking place." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Daichi wondered just what work Takeda had done himself back during that war. "Either way, whether a spy or a mercenary or someone else, by all accounts Silhouette was rather successful. He or she dropped off the radar after the war, but it is not uncommon for such people to go into... 'private employment', shall we say."

"You think this is the guy behind everything here on Miyagi?" Chan asked, incredulous. "Some black market merc who specialises in guerrilla warfare?" She snorted and started on a fresh stick of gum. "What's so special about Miyagi that we're honoured with such a shady character?"

"Actually," Kuroo said, "I've been thinking about that for a while, and really I'm not sure Miyagi _is_ special. No offence." He was looming in the corner by the window, leaning against the wall. "Because you're right: why _would_ someone like that turn up on Miyagi? Why not a capital colony, like Londenion or Miranda or New Iffish?" He glanced out of the window, narrowing his eyes. "Unless there _are_ people on Londenion, and Miranda, _and_ New Iffish, and a hundred other colonies besides. Including Miyagi."

Nishimura swore, but then she shook her head. "I don't even want to think about that. What's happening on other colonies is their problem. What's happening here on Miyagi is _our_ problem."

Daichi moved towards the viewscreen, trying to get a better look. The picture was not clear at all, and the person in it was not memorable in any way, shape, or form. Just an average man with short dark hair, only his head and shoulder visible above those of the people around him. "Let's say you're right," he said. "And this Silhouette guy is here on Miyagi. How do we find him?"

"If that actually was what he looked like, we could send out an alert, tell the public and ask them to report any sightings," Chan said, chewing vigorously. "But if he's in disguise, it probably won't help."

"Maybe it's worth doing anyway," Kuroo said, hands in his pockets; he was still staring moodily out of the window. "Puts some pressure on him."

"Or maybe it'll just cause panic," Nishimura said. She leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling, letting out a huff of annoyance. "Things are tense enough as it is without telling the public some creepy secret agent guy is loose in the colony. Especially if we don't know what he looks like. Do you have any idea how many false reports we'd have to process? Scared people reporting anyone who looks remotely shifty? Maybe even taking matters into their own hands, especially after what happened tonight."

Chan's datapad buzzed and she took it out of her pocket, scowling at it for a few moments. "Oh, just perfect." She turned on the sound and held it up, playing a video. At first Daichi was confused, wondering what was so interesting about a random street, but then he saw five soldiers run into view, followed by a group of angry people with placards, and he realised what he was looking at.

"Didn't you say there were no cameras down that street?"

"No security cameras," Chan agreed bitterly. "Doesn't mean someone wasn't recording." The sounds of argument turned to taunts and jeers when the second set of soldiers arrived, blocking off the protesters' escape route, and after a couple of minutes of scuffling, he saw Tanaka, Noya, Ennoshita, and the others arrive too.

"Where did you find this?" Nishimura frowned, though she didn't look away from the screen.

"I set up a search alert. It's a video posted to a local news site," Chan said darkly. "Cat's out of the bag now, folks. Best brace yourselves for the shitstorm."

 

* * *

 

By mid-morning the next day, Governor House was virtually under siege.

For their own safety as much as to avoid inflaming tensions any further, Commodore Nekomata and Captain Ukai had restricted all crewmembers to their ships until further notice. The only exceptions were those officers coordinating with the Miyagi authorities, and even they'd been instructed to change into civilian clothes.

Which was why Tetsurou was suffering in ugly striped trousers — in two different tones of brown, no less — and a lavender shirt with a collar that was at least one size too small for his neck. That was the last time he'd ever ask Kenma to buy him some clothes.

"You did this deliberately, didn't you?" he said, glaring over at the man in question, half-hidden behind a huge computer screen.

Kenma didn't even look up. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Giving in and unbuttoning the collar, Tetsurou rolled his eyes and went back to looking out the window.

They'd been given a room to work in by the governor's staff, one that unfortunately came with a view of Sendai Square — and the thousands of protesters that now occupied it. A thin line of police held them back from the entrance to the government complex, a flimsy barrier of high-vis yellow, but even with the thick windows, he could hear them. It was like the rumble of an engine, rising and falling as the anger ebbed and surged.

It was easy to see why they were so upset. Overnight, more footage had appeared — including a video filmed by one of the other protesters, arriving just before the smoke grenade went off, and another that must have been filmed by one of the fake soldiers earlier on, when they were jeering and throwing eggs out on the main road. Several of the victims remained in hospital, including the two who had been shot, both in serious condition. And to make things worse, someone had leaked the fact that of the eight "perpetrators" that had initially been arrested — which included Yamamoto, Fukunaga, and the five from Karasuno — all but one had been released from custody.

Nobody cared that the police had been busy chasing up every lead they could, or that most of the "vicious soldiers" who had so brutally beaten up a few protesters weren't actually soldiers, or that it was likely to be connected to the earlier attacks the previous week. Any sense of nuance had been lost, and a big part of that was because there actually _had_ been genuine soldiers there — the pilots. In the wrong place at the wrong time, perhaps, but there nonetheless. To make it worse, they'd also been the ones behind most of the actual violence, fighting back when they'd been forced to defend themselves.

But Tetsurou — and the other officers with him — had bigger fish to fry. Together with some of the _Karasuno_ 's people and a squad of cops, they'd formed a task force dedicated to hunting down this 'Silhouette' guy. Tetsurou had begged to be part of it, since twice now his pilots had been on the receiving end, and Nekomata had agreed.

So he'd recruited Kenma and Teshiro, both of whom possessed skills that might come in handy, and set them to work digging through all the information they'd obtained from the police investigation so far. Lt Cmdr Shimizu and Commander Takeda from the _Karasuno_ were also present, talking quietly behind a table serving as their makeshift desk on the other side of the room. Sawamura's cop friend, Inspector Chan, had her own desk too, but she'd gone to snatch a couple of hours' sleep. Her deputy, Sergeant Matsuda, sat there instead, yawning as he caught up by reading through a series of files.

Governor Ukai had promised them whatever resources and access they needed, but judging by the crowd outside, Ukai had problems of his own. Tetsurou was no expert in politics, but having read the news articles that morning, he figured Ukai would need a miracle to be able calm things down. Governors were appointed by the Earth Federation, not directly elected, but most colonies also had their own democratic local councils who ran things day-to-day. Under ordinary circumstances, such councils had the power to request a replacement governor if they believed it to be justified.

Miyagi's was screaming for Ukai's head on a silver platter.

Feeling helpless, Tetsurou went to sit down again. Two tables had been pushed together to make a long desk for the Nekoma pilots, with Tetsurou between Kenma on his right and Teshiro on his left. Apart from the three computers that had been set up, trailing power cables across the floor, it was littered with various papers, empty coffee cups, and the half-eaten remains of breakfast. On the wall by the window was a whiteboard, scribbled over with theories and possible avenues of investigation, but they had very little to go on really.

"That is definitely a hideous outfit, sir," Teshiro commented, glancing at him as he sat down. Having come from the ship, Teshiro and Kenma had the luxury of bringing their own clothes. Only Teshiro had made the effort to dress smartly; Kenma was buried in one of his favourite hoodies instead.

"I'll be sure to consult you next time I need to dress myself," Tetsurou said, rolling his eyes. "Have you found anything?"

Teshiro hadn't been part of the team long — he was one of Tetsurou's rookies, having joining only a month or so ago — but he'd settled in well so far. He could be alarmingly frank at times, honest to a fault maybe, but personally Tetsurou found that more entertaining than annoying. More importantly, his analytical skills were top-notch, which was why they'd selected him as the team's second combat coordinator. He had a long way to go before he could match Kenma, but he learned quickly.

So while Kenma worked his voodoo on the colony's various computer systems, communicating via a text chat with some techs in another room somewhere, Teshiro had been tasked with reviewing everything they knew to see if they'd missed anything.

"Not so far, but I'm only halfway through, sir," he replied. Scratching his ear, he paused to think for a moment. "Give me another couple of hours."

Disappointed, Tetsurou turned to Kenma. "What about you, Kenma?" He accompanied this with a gentle poke, knowing that when Kenma was really focusing, whether on a task or on a video game, he blanked out everything around him.

Twisting out of the way with a squeal of annoyance, Kenma gave him a deadly glare. "We're seeing if we can trace back the instructions sent to the fake soldiers," he said after a moment, pointing at a screenful of technical gibberish as if he expected Tetsurou to understand any of it. "The messages were sent and received locally, meaning they went through the colony's comm network. We have one endpoint — Matsuoka's datapad — so we're trying to work backwards from there."

"And?" Tetsurou asked eagerly.

Kenma shook his head. "So far, none have come from the same source. We're investigating each one individually but I'm not optimistic. Looks like whoever sent them was using some kind of onion protocol."

Tetsurou stared at him, waiting for the punchline.

With a sigh of exasperation, Kenma turned back to his screen. "Computer stuff, Kuro. Just... let me work. I'll tell you if I find anything."

Annoyed at the general lack of progress, Tetsurou slumped in his chair and went back to work himself. He was sure there had to be _some_ clue. Nobody, no matter how skilled, could stay hidden in a colony forever. It was a closed environment of limited size, and everything that went in or out was monitored in some way. It had to be, because each colony had to maintain a careful balance in order to provide life support for its inhabitants.

But even so, there were over three million people living on Miyagi Colony across hundreds of square kilometres of land, not including subterranean utility tunnels or the zero-g areas of the cylinder. That was a lot of ground to cover. It might be different if they knew what this 'Silhouette' guy actually looked like, but even if he wasn't in disguise, they didn't have a clear picture of him anyway.

So as far as Tetsurou was concerned, the only option was to come at him from a different direction. Attacking where the enemy was strongest was foolish; far better to attack where they're weak. Silhouette might be hidden, but the people he'd recruited to do his bidding might not be — like the other fake soldiers that had attacked the protesters, or the other bombers for that matter. One of them must have made a mistake somewhere.

"Commander Kuroo...?" Takeda called, gesturing him over. "There's been a development."

Eagerly, Tetsurou got to his feet and wandered over. "Have we got him?" he asked as he joined Takeda, Shimizu, and Sergeant Matsuda, who was grinning.

Takeda shook his head. "Not yet. But it might be a step forward." He glanced at Matsuda, a cheerful, enthusiastic guy who reminded Tetsurou a little of an older, floppy-haired Inuoka.

"One of the garrison soldiers came forward after hearing what happened last night," Matsuda said, gesturing excitedly at the datapad on the desk. It displayed a paused video of a trooper being interviewed. "Corporal Wynn Ott. One of the ones who worked in the armoury. He thinks his superior, Sergeant Weigand, might be part of Silhouette's organisation."

Tetsurou's eyebrows shot up as a jolt of adrenaline made his heart rate spike. "He's got proof?"

Takeda waggled his hand in a 'sort of' gesture. "Nothing conclusive. But what's most interesting from our perspective is that she convinced him to cover for her while she went missing on the night of the bombing."

Could this be...? "Wait, does he think she attacked the police station?" Tetsurou demanded. "Why the hell didn't he say anything sooner?"

"She returned before the police station was attacked, so it couldn't have been her," Shimizu said; she spoke so quietly that Tetsurou had to strain to hear. "As for his silence, it appears she was basically blackmailing him. He claims he screwed up the inventory a few weeks back, losing track of a case of detonators after a training exercise. Sergeant Weigand covered it up for him but has been holding it over his head ever since."

"It's possible those detonators were the ones used to try to blow up the spacedock," Matsuda added.

But Tetsurou's earlier excitement was dimming. "Wait," he said, holding up a hand. "Maybe I'm just being paranoid, given everything that's going on, but is this too convenient? Why's he only coming forward now? How do we know it's not another trick of some kind, or a decoy to put us off the scent?"

"A sensible question," Takeda agreed, wearing a faint smile of approval. "Ott claims not to have come forward earlier because he was afraid he'd be blamed for the bombings. But now he thinks the attack on the protesters will cause reprisals against other soldiers — and he's sick of Weigand's increasingly unbearable demands." With a shrug, he added, "Obviously this _could_ be a trick, but it bears investigating. Commander Naoi and a police team are en route now to pick up Sergeant Weigand, so we'll see what she has to say in her defence."

He glanced down at the datapad, adjusting his glasses, then looked up to meet Tetsurou's gaze, a twinkle in his eye. "Care to join me for the interrogation?"

"I would be delighted to," Tetsurou said, grinning back.

 

* * *

 

Tetsurou had never met someone more guilty in his life. The instant he laid eyes on Weigand — or rather, the instant she laid eyes on _him_ , filled as they were with poorly-disguised revulsion — he knew.

Unfortunately, Inspector Chan insisted on doing things the hard way. All that messy due process stuff, pesky rule of law, and so on. So while she went through a long series of routine questions, chipping away at Weigand like a sculptor trying to uncover the truth in a block of argumentative granite, Tetsurou studied her record.

Charlotte Weigand had turned thirty just a few weeks back. She'd joined up at 18, transferring to the Titans a few years prior to the Gryps War, which put her on the wrong side — at least at first. When the Titans had formed an unholy pact with Neo Zeon, she'd turned against them, which might explain why she had been acquitted of any wrongdoing. She had nevertheless gone on to serve with distinction during the First Neo Zeon War, but the lingering suspicion had probably stunted her career: she'd ended up as a lowly garrison trooper and had only been peripherally involved in the second war three years ago.

Her performance reviews were a mixed bag. Weigand was clearly competent, and was undoubtedly brave judging by some of her boarding actions against Neo Zeon, but she wasn't particularly liked by either her superiors or those under her. And apparently peacetime didn't sit well with her; she had requested a transfer to more active units like Londo Bell no less than five times, and been refused on every occasion.

By the time he'd finished reading, Chan was starting to get to the point, though she'd had to fight Weigand every step of the way.

"So, Sergeant, where were you on the night of the 9th?" she asked in a conversational tone, like she was asking about the weather that night.

Weigand glared at her. "At my post, of course, like any good soldier on duty."

"Can you confirm the hours you were at your post?"

"Why does it even matter?" she asked. "I never left the base. The sentries can confirm that."

Chan smiled slightly. "I'm sure. It's just a normal part of the investigation — eliminating all avenues of investigation, however unlikely. But as I said earlier, the sooner you answer my questions, the sooner we can be done here."

Weigand rolled her eyes and shot suspicious glares at Tetsurou and Takeda, sitting either side of Chan — both temporarily back in uniform. "Fine," she said, folding her arms. "I had the night shift, so midnight to 0800. With breaks, but there were plenty of other people in the mess that night. We were on alert thanks to the bombings, so most people were awake."

"And who else was on duty with you?"

"Most of the garrison, like I said. Even those not on duty were on standby, just in case."

Chan jotted something down in her datapad, nodding slowly as if Weigand was revealing her deepest secrets instead of spouting nonsense. To Weigand's credit, however, she didn't look nervous in any way — merely impatient.

But then, this was a woman who had stormed an enemy position singlehandedly, outnumbered four to one.

"And what about in the armoury? People who were there who can confirm your presence?"

If he hadn't been watching so closely, Tetsurou might have missed the flicker of her eyelid. He fought the urge to smile.

"It was, what, 10 days ago?" Weigand said, shrugging. "You're better off checking the duty roster."

"Rosters can be manipulated," Chan pointed out. "You must remember some of them, surely? Weren't you in charge that night?"

Weigand nodded reluctantly. "Corporal Ott was there, inside at the desk with me. Private Slazak was one of the sentries at the door, for sure; Holgersen was the other, I think."

Double checking her datapad as if she'd made a mistake, Chan frowned and scrolled through her notes. "That's odd. We already spoke to Ott. He said you left at one point."

"Then he's lying. _He's_ the one who left," Weigand said, narrowing her eyes. "Claimed he had the runs, but he spent an awful long time in the latrines."

Chan nodded as though that was perfectly reasonable. "Maybe he's trying to cover himself by shifting suspicion onto you. Can you remember when he was absent? It's important to be as accurate as you can, so any details you can remember — seeing the clock, other events that happened at roughly the same time, et cetera."

Weigand permitted herself a small, sly grin. "I'd say around 0430, for maybe 30 or 40 minutes. It was still dark, I know that much, and it was after his second break." With a frown at Takeda, she leant forward. "Look, I probably shouldn't tell you this, but Ott's not very reliable. He's a bit dim, y'know? Not the sharpest tool in the box. He's made mistakes with the inventory before. Wouldn't be hard for him to make some gear go missing if he wanted to — nobody would be surprised, because he gets stuff mixed up all the time. Counts crates twice, that sort of thing."

She leant back and shrugged, spreading her arms. "I mean, I try my best to keep him in line, but I can't babysit everyone all the time."

Chan tapped a finger to her chin thoughtfully. "That's... very interesting, Sergeant. I'll be sure to chase it up. In the meantime, however, I just have a few more questions."

Hearing the unmistakable note of amusement in her tone, Tetsurou leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He knew what was coming and wanted to see how Chan would spring her trap.

"Firstly," Chan continued, "do you know if Corporal Ott took your datapad with him when he left for those 30 to 40 minutes?"

Weigand stiffened, unfolding her arms. "What? No! Why would he have my datapad?"

Chan glanced over at Takeda, who smiled politely and raised his own datapad. On it was a map of the area surrounding New Sendai, with a snaking route picked out in green. "Your datapad's routefinder function was accessed at 0435 that night," he said. "Navigating a route from the garrison to a point in the countryside about two kilometres from the city."

_Now_ Tetsurou grinned. Weigand was frozen in her seat, eyes narrowed down to tiny slits. She radiated dark rage, like some sort of pitch-black inferno of hatred, but the only visible signs were the tension in her muscles and a tremble in her jaw.

She said nothing.

"Maybe it was Corporal Ott," Chan said cheerfully. "Maybe he stole your datapad without you realising, travelled to some random point in the wilderness, came back, and replaced your datapad. All without you noticing. I don't suppose you have any theories about where he might have gone, or why?"

Weigand glared at her, jaw muscles twitching, but kept her mouth shut.

Under the table, Tetsurou nudged Chan with his knee. He might not know much about interrogation, but he _did_ know a thing or two about provoking people to get a response.

When Chan gave him a curious frown and a nod, he cleared his throat. "You were in the Titans, right?"

"Pfft. Here we go," Weigand snorted, rolling her eyes again. " _Yes_ , I was in the Titans. So what? So were hundreds of thousands of other soldiers. I was a kid. Back then they were the elite, dedicated to wiping out any Zeon holdouts, and it was a fast track to promotion."

"Sure, sure," Tetsurou agreed lightly. He wove his fingers together and rested his chin on them. "I can understand that. I mean, it'd only been a few years since the One Year War. Your colony was destroyed by Zeon, right? And the Titans promised never to let that happen again."

She frowned at him suspiciously. "What's your point, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Well, I mean, they _promised_ that, but then they went and did it themselves, right? Gassed an entire colony to death. Tried to ram another into Granada on Luna. So much for protecting spacenoids! And in the end, Zeon came back anyway. Wiped out yet more colonies, not to mention most of Ireland and Britain with the Dublin colony drop."

She slammed her fist into the table. "Because the fucking AEUG got in the way!" she snarled. "And then people kept trying to make a deal with them, just like three years ago. It's a farce! The only trustworthy Zeons are dead ones."

Tetsurou smirked. Now to reel this fish in. "So you're a patriot, right?"

"Obviously. 12 years in service." Weigand shifted in her seat, studying him intently. "I know who the enemy is, sir."

He nodded. "So you're aware of the Neo Zeon plot to destabilise the Earth Federation? To cause a civil war that will split our forces, weakening us so that Zeon can have another go at it?"

She snorted. "Bollocks."

"Oh?" he said, frowning. "So you don't think it's suspicious that the colonies have been rioting for weeks? Ever since the Laplace Incident? Which Neo Zeon had a big hand in, remember."

Tetsurou knew he had her when Weigand looked down at the table, her brows knitted tightly. He could almost _see_ her entire worldview being upended.

Before she could recover, he reeled the line in all the way. "There's been reports of agents spread out across the colonies. Operatives trained in subterfuge and guerrilla warfare — many of them ex-Zeon agents from the One Year War. Sent to stir up trouble, turn people against the Federation and its military — ripe for Zeon conquest." He narrowed his eyes. "Ever hear of a guy named Silhouette?"

There was no hiding the jerk of surprise, or the way her eyes snapped up to meet his. "No. Who's he?" she said anyway, in a futile attempt to maintain her crumbling facade.

"One of Zeon's best," Tetsurou said, sighing as he ran a hand through his hair. "He was active in Europe during the One Year War, wreaking havoc behind our lines and running an entire Zeon resistance movement. He was never caught and popped up again later at the same time as Neo Zeon; maybe he'd been active all along, softening us up." He grinned, tilting his head. "I mean, there's always been conspiracy theories, right? Like that the whole mess with the Titans was just a Neo Zeon plot all along? After all, it nearly worked. Like you said, thanks to the infighting between them and the AEUG, Neo Zeon were almost able to just walk in and take everything."

Leaning forward and lowering his voice, he said, "Doesn't it feel familiar, though? Neo Zeon active again while we're fighting amongst ourselves, all thanks to a bunch of covert operatives sowing chaos?"

Weigand stared at him, her face paling visibly with every passing second. Then she stared at Chan, and then Takeda, before finally coming back to Tetsurou.

"Shit," she said. "I think I might have fucked up. _Really_ bad."

 

* * *

 

"I have to say, Kuroo," Takeda said as they headed back to their 'office' in Governor House, "I envy your ability to reinvent our entire history on the fly so convincingly."

Tetsurou laughed, holding open a door for him and Chan. "Did I, though?" he said, waggling his eyebrows. "I mean, it could be true. You've got to admit, it sort of makes sense."

"The best lies are those that are most plausible," Takeda agreed with a smile. "In any case, what matters is that Sergeant Weigand may have given us our first solid lead." Chuckling, he shook his head. "It's always the human element that prevails in the end. All our efforts spent trawling through security cameras, hunting for patterns in stacks of data, trying to crack encrypted communications... all it took was one disgruntled corporal and a gullible sergeant."

Chan nodded, chewing on yet another stick of gum. It was a wonder her jaw muscles hadn't snapped by now. "We're not done yet, though at least we now know where that missile launcher came from. But she was convinced that guy wasn't Silhouette."

Tetsurou flattened himself against the wall of the narrow corridor to let a couple of bureaucrats go past, then took the staircase up to the next floor. "You really think he'd trust anyone else with that task?" he said. "He was obviously clearing his tracks after the bombing attempt failed. He's not going to risk someone else screwing it up."

"Even if you're right," she said, "knowing where he was one night two weeks ago doesn't necessarily help us find him now."

Tetsurou paused at the top of the stairs — having climbed them two at a time with his long legs — and grinned down at her as she and Takeda caught up. "I have a couple of guys who might disagree with that."

Sadly, neither Teshiro nor Kenma reacted the way he'd hoped as he explained what had happened. Neither so much as smiled, let alone congratulated him on his genius. Feeling slighted, Tetsurou wondered whether he should have brought Inuoka and Yamamoto along instead; at least they would have responded with appropriate enthusiasm.

After listening stone-faced, they basically ignored him, turning to each other and frowning. "That would narrow it down, right, sir?" Teshiro said. "There's only a few hundred left."

"It might," Kenma conceded, nodding slowly. "But like I said, it relies on a whole ton of assumptions. If I were this guy, I wouldn't be reusing the same datapad each time, no matter how secure it is."

Teshiro's frown deepened. "While true, I don't see a better option at the moment."

Tetsurou cleared his throat pointedly. Once he had their attention, he gestured at himself and everyone else in the room — Takeda, Shimizu, Chan, and Matsuda. "Care to fill us in?"

Kenma retreated behind his computer, leaving Teshiro to do the talking. Teshiro, as usual, was unfazed. He stood up straight with his hands clasped behind his back as though he were giving some kind of formal presentation.

"After reading through the material and talking to Lieutenant Kozume," he said, "I wondered if investigating people was the wrong approach."

"Um, as opposed to what, Ensign?" Takeda asked, shooting Tetsurou a confused glance.

"Datapads," he replied. "It was Commander Sawamura and Inspector Chan's discovery of Larsson's datapad that gave me the idea. Kozume was already investigating the messages Matsuoka received, but he was following a deductive approach: working backwards from the end result to determine the origin. I suggested an inductive approach instead."

Somewhere in the depths of Tetsurou's brain, a glimmer of understanding began to glow. "So instead of starting with one datapad and working back, you want to start with _all_ datapads and work forwards?"

"In essence, yes," Teshiro nodded. "Obviously, there are millions of datapads active on Miyagi. But not all at once, and not all in the same location. As long as they are switched on, they connect to the colony's communications infrastructure. There are measures that can be taken to hide, obscure, or disguise their ID, and the content of any communications can be encrypted, but in order for them to work, they _must_ connect to the network. And when that happens, it is logged."

Gesturing to his desk, they all followed him over to see a map of the colony, the cylinder unrolled like a scroll of parchment to show the whole landmass at once. It was littered with blinking dots, hundreds of them, ranging in colour from a pale pink to a bright red. Most were clustered in either the spacedock — a box off by itself — or New Sendai.

"Each of these dots is the current location of a datapad that was active in the vicinity of one of the events," Teshiro explained, pointing at them. "The bombing attempts, the police station attack, the scuffle last night, the Silhouette meetings at the warehouse, and so on. The more red they are, the more events they were present at. There were hundreds of thousands to begin with, but I've been filtering them out according to various criteria."

"Such as?" Shimizu asked, leaning forward to peer at the screen through her glasses.

"I've excluded datapads that were active more than a month before Armelle Dumont's arrival, datapads that are confirmed as belonging to military, police, or other trusted personnel, and — thanks to an algorithm Kozume developed — datapads that follow regular, predictable patterns every weekday," Teshiro replied. He frowned at the display in dissatisfaction. "That last assumption may be prove to be unwise, but we decided on balance that Silhouette was unlikely to be working a full-time job or attending school."

Tetsurou grinned. "Okay, I follow so far. So how does the new info from Weigand help?"

Teshrio shrugged, turning to Kenma. "Well?"

Kenma ignored him, typing away furiously. Tetsurou was used to it by now and evidently Teshiro was too, both of them content to wait. Kenma didn't leave them hanging for long; a minute later, he stabbed the enter key for the last time and scrolled through what he'd written. After one final scan, he nodded in satisfaction and pressed another key.

A map just like the one on Teshiro's screen popped up. Unlike Teshiro's, however, only a single red dot blinked away.

"Kenma, you are a fucking genius," Tetsurou murmured, shaking his head in amazement. "I take back everything I said about you wasting your talents playing at hacker when you were a kid."

It was subtle, as all things were with Kenma, but Tetsurou knew him well enough to know he was pleased with himself too. He sat up a little straighter, a tiny smile pulling at his lips, even as he ducked his head to try to hide his face.

"It's a wild guess," Kenma warned them. "There's no guarantee that this datapad belongs to Silhouette, or that it's still in his possession, or even that Silhouette was the one to meet Weigand."

"But there's no harm in checking, right? Good work!" Chan said, patting him heartily on the back; Tetsurou winced, knowing Kenma was probably restraining the impulse to leap out of reach.

Before anyone else could speak, the omnipresent background noise of the crowd outside rose to a crescendo.

"What the...?" Tetsurou muttered, wandering over to the window.

Below, a handful of figures were walking out of the building towards the protesters.

One of them was Governor Ukai.

 

* * *

 

Standing atop an upturned packing crate, Ikkei Ukai — Governor of Miyagi Colony — held up a hand for silence. He stood there like that for nearly five minutes, waiting, as the roars of the crowd washed over him again and again. At first they jeered and yelled, hurling accusations and insults at him; he ignored them all. Then some started shouting questions at him, while others made demands. He ignored them too, and gradually, as their curiosity overcame their hostility, they began to subside.

When at last the crowd had quieted sufficiently, Ukai raised a megaphone to his mouth and began to speak. By then, virtually every news stream in the colony showed his craggy features, impassive and immovable before his detractors.

"Miyagi Colony is my home," he said, firm and steady with just a touch of anger of his own. "I live here. My children live here. Most of my grandchildren were born here, and many live here still, with children of their own. If anyone seriously believes that I would willingly put them at risk — along with the rest of you — they must think me a monster. The safety of Miyagi and its people has always been my main concern."

As the crowd began to murmur, he raised his voice to speak above them.

"And no, I do _not_ believe that martial law is the best way to achieve that! You've all seen what's happened on other colonies that accepted military rule. Go tell those innocent people who were beaten, imprisoned, or even killed that they were safer! Go tell the parents, children, and loved ones of those victims that they're safer now! Go tell your own kids that they'll be safer with the soldiers in charge, even though they might get marched away at gunpoint if they dare stay out after curfew, or gather together in groups of more than four, or post the wrong messages where the Junta's agents can see them!"

Fuming, his face muscles twitching as though angry worms were running beneath his skin, Ukai had to take a moment to calm himself.

"We've seen martial law before, haven't we? I'm sure the people of Colony 30 thought they were safe, right up until the Titans gassed them all to death. _All_ of them. Men, women, children. To quell the peaceful protests of a small minority." He shook his head, clenching his fist so tightly around the megaphone that it shrieked in protest.

"If we need protection, it's from the people who think that sort of thing is justified. People like the Titans. People like Zeon. People like the Junta, who all think their way is the right way, that their way should be the _only_ way, and all those who disagree are the enemy. Arrogant bullies so convinced of their own superiority that they think they can do anything they want. Do you really trust people like that to keep you safe?

"But guess what! We _do_ have protection. We have our highly capable and motivated police force. We have a garrison of over a thousand brave soldiers here. Two powerful warships full of people willing to give their lives to protect yours, _without_ demanding obedience in return."

Sweeping his sharp gaze across the now-silent crowd, he lowered the megaphone for a moment, running his tongue across his teeth. "But I'm biased, right?" he said, shrugging. "I know what you're thinking. I was a navy man. My grandson commands one of those ships. Of course I'm going to think we're better off with them here. I know some of you believe I'm some kind of warmonger, or making some kind of power grab, or that I've simply gone senile in my old age." At this last, he gave them such a look of incredulous disgust that a ripple of laughter ran through the protesters.

"But I can promise you that I'm none of those things. I can promise you that the threat to this colony — to _you_ — is real. You should know that already. You saw what happened to the Central Police Station. You know our spacedock was nearly blown up. And you've seen the growing violence over the past few weeks. Do you really think all that is just spontaneous? A few random troublemakers acting impulsively? Come on, as if. How many protests like this have we ever had here on Miyagi before? Zero, that's how many."

"It's all connected." He pointed at them. "Someone is trying to make you scared. Vulnerable. Divided. Are you going to let them get away with it? We got through the Titans, we got through Neo Zeon, and we'll get through this, if only you'll have faith in each other. Don't lose courage."

Then he paused, briefly lowering the megaphone again to show his wry grin. "But hey, I'm just a senile old man, right? Doesn't matter what I say, some of you are never going to believe me. And who knows? Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe we _are_ better off kicking out our only defenders and inviting violent thugs in to stamp all over us in the name of 'public safety'.

"So here's the deal. I'm no hypocrite. You want a say, then fine, you get a say. One week from now we will hold a vote. If you really believe Miyagi will be better off with the Junta, or better off trying to go it alone, vote for that.

"But think carefully. If you let the Junta take over, you may come to regret it, and I promise: _they_ won't give you a vote."

With that, he stood down, gave the crowd a short bow, and walked back into the building even as a roar of confusion, excitement, and indignation erupted behind him.

 

* * *

 

The man known only as Silhouette was not having a good day.

It had _started_ well enough. The mindless drones were buzzing away, in uproar over a minor scuffle he'd arranged, an achievement all the sweeter for the fact that genuine soldiers had somehow blundered into it. Their queen bee, Ukai, was under greater pressure than ever, and there was every sign of imminent colony collapse.

Then, in short succession, two things happened.

First was that damned speech. Ukai was no orator, that much was certain, but he must have hit the right nerve amongst his hive because they'd settled down substantially. No more swarming in Sendai Square, demanding his resignation, demanding he kick out the warships, demanding he turn the colony over to the Junta. Demanding that he keep them all _safe,_ whatever the cost.

Sure, maybe his much-vaunted "public vote" would go against him, at which point he'd no doubt have to resign. But Ukai had bought himself _time_ , which was the one thing Silhouette was rapidly running out of. His deadline would be up in just four days. Even if he decided to stick around (and he had been tempted; it wasn't often that someone provoked him quite as much as Ikkei Ukai did), his client had informed him in no uncertain terms that when his time was up, he would be wise to vacate Miyagi Colony.

All that was irritating enough, but then one of his informants had warned him that the investigation into his activities had made a sudden leap forward — sufficiently far forward, in fact, that they not only knew of his existence, they possibly knew his location too.

It was unconfirmed — his informant did not know where the police suspected Silhouette's hideout to be located — but Silhouette hadn't survived this long by taking unnecessary risks. As soon as he received word, he collected up what he could carry with him and ran, lighting the empty workshop on fire behind him.

And even then his suffering continued! Because, perhaps wise to his earlier modus operandi after Genevieve's failed bombing, the joint military/police unit that raided his hideout was accompanied by a veritable convoy of fire engines. The flames had barely taken hold before it was extinguished.

Hopefully it would have nevertheless destroyed any sensitive evidence he had been forced to leave behind. If not, well, his time was nearly up anyway. Whether he succeeded or failed in his mission, he would be gone in a few days.

But it _irked_ him. Ukai and his cronies — like his brash grandson and that smug, wizened commodore — had come closer than most to foiling Silhouette's plans. For the sake of his professional pride, if nothing else, he needed to retaliate.

And despite Ukai's interference, Silhouette's plans weren't yet in tatters. He had achieved his goal in curtailing the warships, since their crews had been instructed to stay out of the colony unless explicit permission had been granted. The colonists' dissatisfaction, while momentarily sated by Ukai's gesture, still roiled just beneath the surface, and could easily be reignited by the right spark. And parts of Silhouette's network remained intact, giving him some ammunition left to use in the fight ahead.

Not that it would be much of a fight, because the solution was obvious. Ukai had temporarily stemmed the tide by staking his own reputation — not to mention his job — on a single roll of the die. Remove Ukai and the outcome of that roll became irrelevant. Remove Ukai and the factions arrayed against him would at worst reverse his policies and at best tear the colony apart with infighting.

It meant getting involved personally once more, another cleaning job in effect, but this time it would be no hardship. Indeed, it would be a professional pleasure.

But first he need to regroup and prepare, so he discarded and destroyed anything he thought might have led the police to his location — his vehicle, his datapad, his current disguise, the accounts he'd been using to fund his operations — and then he moved to his backup location, set up with Genevieve shortly after they'd first arrived and before they'd acquired any local equipment.

The old farm was more awkwardly situated — on the outskirts of a small town a couple of kilometres spinward of New Sendai — but that was no bad thing in this instance; the police would probably begin searching in a growing radius around his previous hideout and it ought to take them some time to catch up with him. And the seclusion offered by the new location was of benefit; he could come and go at all hours without having to worry about nosey neighbours, street cameras, or police patrols.

To keep his opponents busy, he activated a number of other operations he'd been keeping on standby, and as he worked, he listened in with one ear to the local news services, reporting the various mishaps that struck the colony throughout the following 48 hours.

It was, admittedly, harder to find willing volunteers after the unfortunate fates met by Genevieve's bombers and the hapless fools he'd dressed up as soldiers, most of whom had since been rounded up. But there were still a few, especially amongst the garrison, and he'd been able to smuggle enough weaponry out of its armoury to cause significant havoc.

The operations varied in scale and efficacy, ranging from stinging attacks that would do little more than distract and annoy — such as fake bomb threats that would nevertheless cause panic and require investigation, or political stunts like climbing up the outside of a local government building to hang a giant banner — to more serious strikes that would hopefully rattle Ukai and his people. Foremost amongst those was a hostage taking by a group of Silhouette's most militant garrison allies. It would have been preferable to target some of the warships' crew, but they were now safely holed up in their ships, so the soldiers would have to make do with others sympathetic to the Rebel cause. Like one of the few local politicians willing to support Ukai, along with his family.

Put together, it was a pleasant background soundtrack to his work, a discordant concerto of chaos. But once he set the wheels in motion, he played no further part in any of it; indeed, he severed himself from most of his network entirely, excepting those informants he maintained in the police and governor's staff.

The latter proved most useful, since they kept him apprised of Ukai's movements and plans. Ukai was making sure to stay visible, doing his best to put out the fires that Silhouette kept igniting around his colony while simultaneously campaigning to support his stance in the upcoming vote. It appeared to be working, too, since the opinions polls were shifting back in his favour.

One such campaign event was an appearance at a charity fundraiser for war veterans — a fitting venue for Ukai's demise, in Silhouette's opinion. The venue was ideal, too — a war memorial in an expansive park in the centre of New Sendai, surrounded by plenty of tall buildings that offered perfect vantage points. Making sure to use a fresh disguise and sticking solely to public transport, Silhouette went to scope out the location in person, checking sight lines and Ukai's probable movements, as well as escape routes and potential security perimeters.

A small voice of doubt did make itself heard, somewhere deep in Silhouette's subconscious. _Could it be a trap_? the voice whispered. _To lure you out?_ But he could not believe that even Ukai would have the temerity to attempt something so audacious, not when the fate of his precious colony hung in the balance and weighed so heavily on his shoulders. Besides, Silhouette had survived far more skilled opponents than a retired warship captain and his friends. He would survive this too.

And so he steadily worked away, preparing his equipment, mapping out his operation, readying contingency plans for his contingency plans, and ensuring all the pieces would be in place for his grand finale.

Finally, the time arrived. Having made sure to catch some sleep and a decent meal — he'd learnt the hard way to always see to such things before an operation if possible, because he might not get the opportunity afterwards — he changed into his final disguise and made his way to the park well in advance.

Security gave him no trouble. The police had set up a cordon around the event, but disguised as he was as an aged, female veteran with an artificial leg, dressed in a One Year War vintage Federation uniform with his tunic resplendent with medals, only the most odious thug would even consider suspecting him, let alone stop or question him.

Nor had he chosen the most obvious perch for his sniper's nest. There was a perfect 20-storey building directly opposite the war memorial, with unhindered lines of sight and easy escape routes, but the police and the military would know that just as well as he did. Instead, he chose a much more awkward building, off to one side. Crucially, it was an apartment building with minimal security and small balconies outside to help conceal him. It had been relatively simple to locate an apartment with a suitable viewpoint, gain entry, and ensure its single elderly inhabitant would not be in a position to interfere.

He worked quickly, getting everything ready, though he made sure to stay away from the balcony until it was nearly time. No point in risking being seen by any last-minute security sweeps. Then, five minutes before Ukai was due to give his speech and lay a wreath and shake the hands of fellow veterans and suchlike, Silhouette opened the window and set up his rifle.

It was a model from the garrison, nothing special; for delicate work he would have chosen a more high-end weapon, but at the distances he was working with here, this gun would do. It was not silenced, which meant he would probably only get one shot — maybe two if he was fast — before he'd have to flee.

But he would only need one.

 


	13. Let the Games Begin

As a mobile suit pilot, Daichi had become accustomed to facing unpleasant situations while wrapped in a 50-ton suit of state-of-the-art war machine. Now, as he stood stiffly in his dress uniform with the sun beating down on him, he was developing a new respect for ordinary ground troops. Though even they got a helmet and combat armour.

He knew he was probably just being paranoid. There were police everywhere — both in the park and at checkpoints along the surrounding roads — not to mention a unit of garrison soldiers on standby. And like all of the other military personnel present, he had his sidearm too. But he couldn't help but feel exposed, standing at the centre of the park beside the war memorial, with people all around. And between the itchy, seldom-worn fabric of his dress uniform and the gentle breeze that kept ruffling the hair on the back of his neck, his skin prickled constantly, making it impossible to relax even if he wanted to.

"You're fidgeting again," Asahi murmured next to him.

Captain Ukai had successfully ducked out of attending the fundraiser, much to his grandfather's irritation, but _someone_ had to be there to represent the _Karasuno_. With Takeda busy with the special investigation team, Daichi had ended up with the short straw. The grin Ukai had given him was one of pure schadenfreude. "Everyone loves pilots, right?" he'd said as he'd clapped Daichi on the back. "You're like celebrities! Besides, all you have to do is stand there and look important, maybe shake a few hands. It'll be a fun day out for you!"

Daichi had decided that if he was going to suffer, then he would drag someone else along to share the suffering with him and make it more bearable. Since Suga was mysteriously (and conveniently) nowhere to be found, and most of his other senior pilots were covered in half-healed bruises, that left Asahi.

"Sorry, Asahi," he replied, adding an apologetic smile to show he wasn't just referring to the fidgeting.

Asahi grinned. "At least it makes a welcome change from all the training."

"Feels like we've been stuck in the simulators for months," Daichi agreed. It was hard to believe they'd been at Miyagi  less than two weeks. "Though all our hard work is slowly starting to pay off; everyone in the team is getting used to working with Nekoma now."

"And with each other," Asahi pointed out. But as he glanced around, his smile vanished. "Heads up — we've got incoming."

Daichi turned to look in the same direction and spotted Commodore Nekomata heading in their direction, deep in conversation with a couple of local dignitaries. He seemed to be enjoying himself, flitting about from person to person, regaling them with funny tales that subtly encouraged support for the governor. Poor Kai was trailing dutifully behind, making subtle jerks of his head to try to warn them to flee while they still could.

"Evasive action," Daichi ordered, immediately retreating towards a knot of people sampling the catering. He and Asahi paused just long enough to offer polite hellos and then they were on the other side, with the small group safely between them and Nekomata.

"Are we bad people?" Asahi asked quietly, stifling a chuckle.

"The worst," Daichi said. He spotted Nekomata looking around to see where they'd gone. "But just to be sure, we should probably... uh, do a check of the security perimeter. Yes. Very important."

"Oh, yes, we should get right on that!" Asahi said.

It wasn't like they hadn't already done their fair share of meeting and greeting — especially poor Asahi, who had stammered his way through several awkward conversations every time Nekomata introduced him as a "bona fide ace from the Second Neo Zeon War". But even a soldier could only take so much, right?

They blended in with the wider crowd — mostly consisting of wealthy or important locals, mixed in with some veterans and relatives — and breathed a sigh of relief once they were finally out of sight.

"Better duck down a bit," Daichi said, looking up at Asahi. "You're too tall — he might spot you."

Asahi complied, lowering his head as if he'd spotted something unusually interesting on the ground. "Surely he won't chase us this far?"

"This is the Commodore we're talking about. He's nothing if not persistent."

Fortunately, they'd already made it through most of the crowd and were given an excuse not to head back when Asahi bumped into an elderly woman and her wife. After a flurry of apologies on both sides, they stopped to chat and found that the couple had both served in the One Year War.

"Not as pilots," the first woman — Aiko — explained. "Though we have the greatest respect for you brave souls in mobile suits — I can't tell you how reassuring it is to know we've got two veteran carriers here protecting us!" She beamed at them, patting Asahi on the arm as though he were a star performer in a pet show. "But Kokoro and I were just lowly sailors, nothing so glorious I'm afraid. We served together on the _Nereid_ , one of the old Magellans. It's how we met, in fact."

"There were four of us from Miyagi aboard and we all became friends," the other, Kokoro, added. She sighed and looked away. "Though there's only the two of us left now."

Aiko frowned. "That reminds me. Where did Rin get to? Has he found out where his mother is yet?"

"He's still over there," Kokoro said, pointing at a police officer standing beneath a nearby tree, fiddling with his datapad. "Rin! Rin!" When he looked up, she waved him over.

"This is Rin Fujioka," Aiko explained, smiling at him. "His father was aboard the _Nereid_ too. He's almost like a nephew to us. Closer, even — his kids are like our grandchildren!"

"Hi," he said distractedly, looking up from his datapad just long enough to give them both a nod of greeting. He was a tall guy, a few years older than Daichi; like the other police present, he wore an armoured vest and heavy utility belt over his full uniform, which was probably why his skin glistened with a sheen of sweat.

"Still no word?" Kokoro asked, pressing a hand to her chest in concern.

Rin shook his head. "She ought to be here by now."

Daichi and Asahi exchanged puzzled glances. "I'm sorry, who should be here?"

"Rin's mother, Takako," Aiko said. "She really has no excuse, either — she lives just over there." She pointed up at a small apartment block on the edge of the park. "It's not like her to be late."

Daichi stared up at it, the prickling at the back of his neck worsening. It was a perfectly ordinary building, identical to several others he'd seen around New Sendai — six storeys tall and painted a sort of mustard colour, with small balconies on each level. The residents would have a pleasant view overlooking the park, and he could make out figures at a couple of the balconies, no doubt watching the event going on. Even as he watched, another of the windows swung open.

But there was something about it that made him anxious, and he didn't know why.

He tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Aiko say, "You should go check on her. You know what her knees are like. Maybe she fell."

Rin bit his lip in worry. "I can't just leave. I'm supposed to be on security duty."

"I'm sorry, which apartment did you say your mother lived at?" Daichi asked. Asahi glanced at him in confusion, picking up on the tension in his voice.

"Oh, uh, second from the top, on the right-hand side," Rin replied.

Which was where he'd just seen the window open. Pulling out his datapad, Daichi switched it to camera mode and zoomed in on it as much as possible. Although there was nobody on the balcony itself, he thought he saw the window move again. But looking up at it from the park below meant he didn't have a good enough angle to see far inside.

He lowered the datapad and turned to Rin. "Your mother lives alone?"

The anxiety he felt must have been contagious, because all of the others were now watching him with concerned frowns. Rin nodded. "Yes. Why?"

"Because the window just opened. Someone is inside."

"Why would she open the window?" Aiko asked, shielding her eyes with her hand as she looked up at it in confusion.

Kokoro had gone pale. "And if she's at the window, why isn't she answering Rin's calls?"

Despite the heat of the midday sunlight, it was like a cold breeze had blown through the park. The pleasant hubbub of conversation from the milling crowd around them suddenly seemed distant, as though just the five of them had been enveloped in their own bubble of disquiet.

Daichi _knew_ this had been a bad idea. The Governor had insisted on making an appearance, not wanting to appear cowed or scared off by "cowards who strike from the shadows", as he put it, no matter how tempting a target that made him.

Asahi cleared his throat. "Maybe we should check on her?"

Immediately, without another word, Rin started running towards the building.

"Aiko, Kokoro, find a police or military officer and warn them there might be a potential sniper," Daichi said quickly, already moving after him. "Give them my name if they don't listen. It might be nothing, but..."

"We understand," Aiko said, her earlier cheer having given way to grim determination. "Go!"

With Asahi beside him, Daichi raced after Rin. They caught up to him as he stopped to unlock the main door with a keycard. Inside was a modest lobby; to the left and right, corridors ran deeper into the building, and straight ahead were a lift and the door to a staircase. Rin headed for the lift, but Daichi grasped his arm and stopped him.

"Better take the stairs," he said, imagining just how easy it would be for someone to ambush them coming out of the lift. "Just in case."

Rin hesitated, then went for the stairs instead, taking them two at a time.

"Maybe it's just a neighbour," Asahi said quietly as he brought up the rear. "If she fell, maybe a neighbour heard and went to help her."

Nobody replied; Rin probably wasn't even listening and Daichi didn't want to tempt fate by voicing his doubts. Instead he focused on climbing the stairs, checking his pistol as he went. When they reached the right floor, Daichi again had to stop Rin before he could charge through the door. "Careful," he warned, moving in front to open the door a crack and peek through.

"We need to hurry!" Rin protested, though he kept his voice down to a tense whisper.

The coast looked clear, so with a nod at the other two, they piled out into the corridor. Rin led them along to the last apartment, a key already in his hand. As Daichi, Rin, and Asahi stacked up on either side of the door, their weapons ready — just in case — Rin inserted the key and turned it as slowly and quietly as he could.

It unlocked with a loud _clunk_.

There was just enough time for Rin to grimace before the crack of a rifle shot rang out, bursting through the door and spraying splinters everywhere. The bullet shattered the plaster on the opposite wall of the corridor, filling it with a cloud of dust.

Daichi crouched, making sure to stay back, and while Asahi pulled Rin out of the way, he pulled the handle and pushed open the door with his foot. He'd braced himself, shielding his face with his arm in case another shower of splinters erupted, but there was no reaction. The only sounds he could hear were the cries of alarm from outside and scared shouts from neighbouring apartments.

Every muscle in his body was taut, readying themselves for a fight, and he could feel the arteries in his neck pulsing with each rapid beat of his heart. The sensible voice in his brain told him he ought to wait for backup, that there was only one way in or out and they had it covered, but there was another voice — darker, deeper, more dangerous — that remembered what happened to Hinata and Kozume, that remembered the state of Tanaka and the others, that remembered the dozens of scared families standing along the roadside as they watched blazing fires consume their homes. _That_ voice urged him onward, promising justice and vengeance.

Opposite, Asahi was having to physically restrain Rin, who was bleeding from a dozen small cuts on his face, yelling and trying to charge inside. Looking past him, Daichi met Asahi's eyes — angry and sad and scared and eager all at the same time. When Asahi gave a tiny nod, Daichi held up a hand so that both Rin and Asahi could see it and began counting down on his fingers. Rin stilled at once, taking his meaning, and the three of them prepared to breach the doorway.

Daichi let Rin go first, both because he knew the layout and because he was the only one wearing any sort of protection — not that it would do much against a high calibre rifle shot. Daichi followed straight after, checking the opposite corners to Rin, but the small flat was empty.

The door opened directly into the main room, which featured a sofa, a couple of armchairs, and a coffee table in the middle. All the other rooms seemed to split off from that, with a kitchen visible through the only open door. Directly opposite the main entrance was the sliding glass door leading onto the balcony, still ajar; next to it was a cabinet, and on top of it was a military sniper rifle and, bizarrely, an artificial leg.

But there was no sniper.

Rin was already checking the rooms, shouting for his mother, but it was Asahi who figured it out first. He ran over to the sliding door and peered out cautiously before going out onto the balcony. "The glass on the next balcony is smashed," he said, hurrying back inside.

Daichi swore, running for the exit. Wails of grief from one of the other rooms suggested Rin had found his mother, but they couldn't afford to stop and commiserate right then.

He reached the corridor just in time to see a long-haired woman in a military uniform open the door to the same stairwell they'd climbed up earlier. She had a pistol and fired a couple of shots at Daichi, who ducked back into cover. He saw one of the other apartment doors open and yelled at the occupant to stay inside and wait for the police; the last thing they needed was innocent bystanders getting hurt, or — worse — being taken hostage.

He chanced another look down the corridor, and as he'd expected the sniper was gone. Beckoning Asahi to follow, he sprinted over and poked open the staircase door. For a second he was tempted by the lift nearby, but he'd rather be able to keep his eyes on his prey.

"Do you think it's _him_?" Asahi asked breathlessly as they pursued the sniper down the stairs.

He didn't need to be more specific than that; they'd all heard by now about the mysterious operative said to be at large on Miyagi. Silhouette had become a sort of bogeyman, spoken of in hushed whispers.

"It was a woman, a soldier," Daichi said, but as he paused briefly to peer down the stairwell — he could hear her rapid footsteps a couple of floors down — he wondered whether it could actually be Silhouette.

He hoped it was. He _really_ hoped it was.

They were catching up — all but leaping down each flight of steps — but the sniper was still ahead, and Daichi heard the door to the lobby slam open. It was followed by a hissing sound and as he rounded the next corner, he was confronted with a cloud of thick smoke billowing up the staircase. A fire alarm sounded a second later, filling the stairwell with a deafening, skull-piercing siren, and he slowed. They were only one floor up, so he fumbled his way down until he found the door to the lobby.

The next couple of minutes were chaotic and intensely frustrating. Seeing armed figures emerge from a cloud of smoke, the police and garrison troops that had piled into the building called for them to drop their weapons and surrender. He and Asahi tried to explain, but with the siren making it almost impossible to hear, they were left with no choice but to comply. It was only when one of the cops recognised him that things got straightened out, but by the time they'd uncuffed him and given him his pistol back, Daichi's impatience had reached boiling point.

"Where did she go?! The sniper!" he demanded, yelling at the nearest police officer — as much to be heard over the fire alarm as to vent his fury. "She was right ahead of us!"

"Nobody else came through before you," the cop said, shaking his head. "The door opened, the smoke came out, and then you two appeared."

By now, most of the smoke had dissipated, but the lobby was filling up with civilians evacuating the building. Between the noise, the remaining smoke, the police and soldiers trying to get in and the civilians rushing to get out, it was absolute bedlam. Reluctantly, Daichi headed outside — where he could at least hear himself think — and grabbed a nearby police sergeant, who appeared to be overseeing the evacuation of the civilians.

"Has a woman come out yet? Tall-ish, long dark hair, military uniform? Maybe even just military trousers and an undershirt?"

The sergeant shook his head. "Don't think so. But we've got the whole area cordoned off and we'll be verifying everyone's ID. Don't worry — nobody's getting away."

Moving over to a quiet spot nearby, Daichi snarled and punched the wall. "Dammit!"

"I don't get it," Asahi said, frowning as he surveyed the civilians; they were all being corralled by the police, gathering in the park across the road. "We were one floor behind, right? And she couldn't have slipped upstairs past us, not even in the smoke. Even if it was a disguise, the police would have seen _someone_ come out before us."

And then it hit him. They'd been so blindingly stupid! "Shit! The emergency shelter!"

On most colonies, every building above a certain size was required to have some kind of emergency shelter — a place where its occupants could go in case of potential atmospheric breach or other emergency. The apartment block was most likely big enough to warrant one.

And the staircase didn't stop at the ground floor — it carried on down.

Asahi gaped in shock, horrified. "We need to get back in there," he said, his expression settling into one of furious determination. "It's only been a few minutes. They can't have got far."

They had to shove their way back inside through sheer brute force, pushing against the flow of panicking civilians coming the other way, but at least the siren stopped, cutting off with an uncertain warble. They managed to grab a couple of police along the way, explaining the situation, and together they hurried down staircase. As expected, at the bottom there was a sturdy metal airlock with the familiar red/green status light above it — the building's emergency shelter, sealed up tight.

"You sure about this?" one of the cops asked. "This door should only open in an emergency. The suspect would need a security card to get in otherwise."

Daichi nodded. "They went inside. It's the only explanation."

The police constable overrode the door with her own card and together they went inside. It was just like any other shelter Daichi had seen — a large, open room with a metal floor and thick pillars supporting the building overhead, with harsh white striplights above and storage units built into the walls. The signs on the walls had faded somewhat, but it was possible to see how the area had been divided up — one section with medical supplies, another with food and drink, another with life support equipment, and so on.

He groaned when he realised there was another hatch at the back.

Asahi went to check it out. There was a simple keypad control for it and when he pressed it, the hatch slid open to reveal another airlock. This one gave access to the utility tunnels that ran through the shell of the colony — a labyrinthine network between the colony's 'ground' and the outer hull. They were mainly used for maintenance, carrying cables and pipework and so on, but they often connected to the shelters too to make it easier to get aid to people if surface travel was impossible for whatever reason.

"We'll get a team to investigate," the other police officer said dubiously.

"You do that," Daichi agreed, scowling in frustration as he headed back to the exit. They were going to need some help on this.

Outside, things were calming down. More police had arrived and as Daichi pulled out his datapad, he could see vehicles blocking off the roads around the park.

"What now?" Asahi asked. He looked angrier than Daichi remembered seeing him in a long time.

"Those tunnels are a maze. We need to be clever about this," Daichi said, tapping his foot impatiently as he called Kuroo and waited for him to answer.

" _Sawamura! Hey. You okay? We've already heard from Kai — sounds like a possible assassination attempt?"_

_"_ Me and Asahi are both fine," Daichi replied curtly. "But we lost the sniper — who we think could be Silhouette — in the utility tunnels connected to the emergency shelter. And they have a big head start now. Any suggestions?"

" _Lemme bring up some maps."_

Daichi paced back and forth as he waited. Every second that passed, that Silhouette bastard was getting further away. If it really was him, of course... but it would make sense. Takeda had said that the sudden flood of events of the past few days — the hostage-taking, the political stunts, the flurry of violence — smacked of desperation, like Silhouette was pulling out all the stops. But an assassination dwarfed them all. Had the sniper succeeded, it would have changed _everything_. Would Silhouette really have trusted someone else to do it for him?

" _Alright, Sawamura_ ," Kuroo said, breaking him out of his grim thoughts. " _How big a head start does our guy have?"_

"Nearly ten minutes now."

" _Ten min—?! Okay, okay, we can still salvage this."_ He paused, and Daichi could hear urgent conversation in the background. " _Kenma says there's over a hundred possible exit points within a ten minute radius, but I think we should focus on public shelters and other public access, not private buildings. In which case, there's only six — four shelters nearby and two maintenance shafts."_

Six was better than a hundred, but still five too many. "Tell us where the nearest is and send police teams to cover all the others," Daichi said. He glanced at Asahi, who straightened up from the wall with the eager expression of a hunter whose prey had just been spotted.

" _I'll do better than that,_ " Kuroo said, sounding pleased with himself. " _Four of those exits are around the park, inside the police cordon. That leaves one maintenance shaft and one shelter, and according to traffic cams, there's a van parked near the shaft."_ He chuckled — a dark, purring sound, like a panther toying with its meal — and added, " _I'll send you the directions and Chan's on her way with a rapid response unit. Go get the fucker, Sawamura."_

Daichi licked his lips in anticipation. "Oh, I will. Thanks, Kuroo."

With the authority of the Special Investigative Task Force behind them, the police cordon proved no obstacle — indeed, the sergeant overseeing the roadblock bent over backwards to help, offering two cops to drive them to the maintenance shaft. It wasn't far to go even on foot, but going by car shaved a couple of minutes off their arrival time. Daichi imagined Silhouette running along a tunnel right beneath them and grinned at the thought of being there to greet him when he emerged.

The car weaved around a bus and pulled up to the pavement just as the nondescript hatch in the ground swung open. But instead of a long-haired woman in military uniform, out climbed a middle-aged man with short, scruffy hair wearing a hard hat and fluorescent high-vis jacket, with a bag of tools hanging by a strap from one shoulder.

For a moment, even Daichi experienced a moment of doubt. He climbed out of the car with the others, his pistol drawn, but the two police were calmly approaching the man and asking if he'd seen anyone else in the tunnels.

"Don't be fooled," Daichi warned them, gesturing for Asahi to circle around the guy's other side. "The one we're after is good with disguises."

"I thought we were after a female soldier?" one of the cops replied sceptically.

The man dressed as a maintenance worker gave them a quizzical look as he stood in front of the open hatch. "I didn't see nobody else down there," he said nervously. "Especially not some soldier woman. Look, what's this all about? I've been fixing faulty cables all morning. Has there been another attack?"

"Have you got any ID on you?" the other cop asked him.

"Sure," the worker said, reaching into a pocket and passing him a card. "It's my work ID. You can even call the number on it and talk to my supervisor."

While the cop studied it, Daichi watched the man. It _had_ to be him — for it to be anyone else would be too great a coincidence — but if it was, his act was perfect: clothing, posture, the nervous fidgeting an innocent person might show when faced with four armed men. He even had a smudge of dirt on his cheek.

But the _eyes!_ The man's eyes weren't on the two policemen, or on the guns, or looking around anxiously as you might expect. Instead they alternated between Asahi and Daichi: cold, hard, calculating glances, like he'd evaluated them as being the greater threat and was visualising how best to take them down.

Those weren't the eyes of a maintenance worker; those were the eyes of a soldier, a killer.

This _was_ him. This was Silhouette.

When Silhouette glanced back and their eyes met, they both knew the charade was at its end. Both moved simultaneously — Daichi raising his pistol, shouting a warning, while Silhouette reached inside his bag and dived for the maintenance hatch.

The two policemen were taken completely by surprise, belatedly fumbling for their guns, but Daichi and Asahi were already backing towards the car, seeking cover. Daichi fired but missed as Silhouette fell into a crouch. Before he could try again, Silhouette dropped his bag and threw something at Daichi as he slid back down the manhole.

Instinctively, Daichi swatted at the incoming object with his arms before it could hit him in the face, connecting with something hard about the size of a baseball. He stumbled on the kerb as he backed up, falling over, as the object bounced off the open hatch and fell down the hole.

Two seconds later, a gout of hot smoke erupted from it with a deafening _whumpf_ , knocking them all back. Shielding his face with one hand, Daichi sat up with a groan and checked on everyone else as car alarms shrieked and shattered glass rained from nearby windows. The two stunned policemen were clutching their ears and groaning as they rolled around on the pavement, but Asahi was already up and creeping towards the hatch.

"It's too dark. I can't see anything but smoke," he complained, risking a peek over the edge. Daichi could barely hear him over the ringing in his skull, but he forced himself to his feet and went over to join Asahi.

"Surely he can't have survived that," he said, pointing his pistol down the manhole just in case. The smoke was clearing and although it looked like the lights had been knocked out — the ladder and metal walls were scorched and blackened from the explosion — there was enough light from above to see the bottom, a few metres down.

A foot was just visible, still and unmoving.

"Please tell me that's attached to something," Asahi said, paling and pressing one hand to his stomach.

"Only one way to find out," Daichi said, moving to climb down the ladder. "Cover me, Asahi."

"Wait, Daichi, don't —"

Daichi slid down the ladder, using his hands and boots to hold on. It tore the skin on his palms, but he barely felt it as he pulled his pistol back out and whipped around to point it at the figure on the floor.

He needn't have bothered.

"Is it him?" Asahi called down. "Is he dead?"

Gagging, Daichi had to turn away and cover his mouth and nose. "He's dead."

So much for being able to question him and get to the bottom of everything. But Daichi couldn't quite bring himself to feel sorry.

  

 

Chan and her team arrived only a few minutes after that. She seemed totally unaffected by the grisly remains, chewing cheerfully on her gum as she climbed back up the ladder. While some police cordoned off the street and others began combing through the tunnels, she took statements from Daichi and Asahi.

She wasn't convinced the dead man and the sniper were one and the same until a discarded disguise was discovered further back in the tunnels — a wig, some sort of mask, a uniform, and a padded bodysuit. Even then, they'd only know for certain once the forensics technicians finished their jobs and matched evidence in Takako Fujioka's apartment to the body.

Whether it truly had been Silhouette or not was harder to say, but given the use of disguises and the level of skill and planning involved, it seemed highly likely.

"Though it's not like he was the only troublemaker," Chan pointed out. "He might have been pulling some of the strings, but he had enough willing accomplices to do his dirty work. It'll take time to root them all out."

"All the same, I'll rest easier knowing Silhouette's not out there," Daichi said. "I bet the Governor will, too."

"From what I heard, he's spitting mad that his ceremony got interrupted," Chan said, chuckling, "but I expect you're right. This is a clear win, and we've had precious few of those in the past two weeks."

Asahi cleared his throat. He'd been standing sombrely nearby, gazing at the manhole. "What about Rin's mother, Takako?"

Chan's face twisted with a flash of anger. "Dead," she said, shaking her head. "Alright, so not a perfect win. But at least Silhouette won't be killing anyone else now."

The rest of the day felt to Daichi like it was somehow stuck on repeat. He had to go over his statement with another set of police, then Takeda and Kuroo and the rest of the task force insisted on hearing it, then both Ukais turned up wanting the story as well. By the end of it, he was pretty sure he could recite it in his sleep.

At least Governor Ukai had been pleased. "Would have been better to take him alive," he complained — like his grandson, he seldom offered an undiluted compliment — "but without that guy stirring things up, I expect things will start to turn around here on Miyagi. Well done, lads."

By the time Daichi was finally able to crawl into bed, he was exhausted — and for the first time in days he truly did sleep soundly.

 

* * *

 

Tobio had always thought Suga to be a nice guy, friendly and kind and always so upbeat and positive. Angelic, even. As it turns out, all of that was actually some kind of cunning disguise to conceal the demon that dwelt within. And all it took to provoke said demon was Tobio's refusal to attend a stupid paintball game. At first Suga had laughed, as if he'd misheard, and repeated his request. With Tobio's second refusal, the smile widened, the eyes narrowed, and the sweet voice gained a razor edge.

"Now, now, Kageyama, after all I've done for you! I promise you'll have fun. Come on."

"I'd rather not."

With the third refusal, Suga had hopped in front of him in the corridor, blocking his path with outstretched arms, and then slowly backed him up against the wall until his manic smile was mere centimetres away.

"I'll ask one last time, Kageyama," he'd said, as cheerful as ever. "But before you give me your answer, let me tell you a few secrets, okay?" With that, he'd tilted his head to the side and blinked, slowly, as he raised one finger. "Firstly, I outrank you, so if you say no again I will simply order you to attend." Another finger. "Secondly, it's for your own good. This is a team-building exercise, and you of all people need to build some team." He smile grew impossibly wide as he raised his third finger. "Thirdly, I have access to your pilot suit and its air filters. Have you ever spent an entire mission breathing air that stinks of rotten fish? Because I can arrange that for you." 

With that, he'd taken a step back and his face reverted to something less likely to give Tobio nightmares for the rest of his life. "So. Let's try this again. Would you like to come to the paintball game I'm organising for this afternoon?"

Tobio had swallowed, sealing his fate with four words. "I would love to."

"Excellent! Then I'll see you there," Suga had said, before dancing off down the corridor.

Which was why Tobio now found himself clad in ratty overalls with gloves and padding for his forearms, knees, and (rather embarrassingly) his crotch. In one hand he held a combat helmet with full face mask and in the other he clutched a paintball gun, ammo for which had been stuffed into the various pockets of the overalls. To either side of him were the rest of Karasuno's pilots, lined up as though preparing to march into battle. Meanwhile, Suga walked up and down the line in front of them all like an upbeat, slightly mad general addressing his army, explaining the rules.

"Thank you all for coming!" he said, raising his chin as he inspected them each in turn. "To celebrate yesterday's victory over Silhouette, I thought it would be nice to do something a little different — and something that might also help us pull together as a team: zero-g paintball!"

Suga paused expectantly, as if waiting for a round of cheers, but aside from a whoop of delight from Noya and Hinata, he was greeted with a wary silence.

"It's okay, you'll enjoy it once we get started. I promise," he said, grinning as though he could hardly wait. "We're going to split into three teams of four. It's going to be young against old against even older, and for the duration we'll drop ranks and surnames and everything else, okay? First names only, please! Pretend we're all best friends." He spun on his heel as he reached the end of the line and started walking past the other way, his magnetic soles clanking against the deck with every step. "We'll play best of five with a tie-break round in case of a draw, and the goal of each round is to protect your king while shooting the enemy kings."

"Wait, kings?" Sawamura asked.

Suga nodded, stopping to look at him. "Yes! Each team has to elect a king. The other three team members have to protect them or they lose. Sort of like in chess! If the king gets killed, the rest of the team can still fight, but they can no longer win. The team with the last king left alive wins the round."

Tobio wondered how far he'd make it if he simply turned and ran right then. Would Suga shoot him in the back and gun him down?

Probably.

"But the main goal is to have fun, make friends, and blow off some steam," Suga said cheerfully, "so don't take it too seriously. There'll be a little prize for the winning team, but I've also got consolation prizes for everyone else too."

"How do we know if we've been shot?" Hinata asked like the dumbass he was.

"You'll know," Suga said, winking. "It's okay if it's a shot to the arm or leg — you can either surrender by dropping your weapon or continue fighting as you prefer — but a shot to the head or body is game over. Then you have to drop your weapon and go limp so your opponent knows you're dead."

The murmuring of disquiet that ran up and down the line was reassuring to Tobio. At least he wasn't the only one regretting the life choices that had brought him to this moment.

"Any more questions?"

"Uh, what are the teams exactly?" Kinoshita asked. "You said young versus old?"

"Yes," Suga said. "Kageyama — uh, Tobio, Shouyou, Kei, and Tadashi will form the young team. You'll find your bullets are pink. You, Kazuhito, Yuu, and Ryuunosuke will form the middle team — your bullets are yellow. Then me, Daichi, Asahi, and Chikara will form the old team, with turquoise bullets."

"Hey, why am I on the old team?" Ennoshita protested. "Noya's older than I am!"

"Chikara, Chikara," Suga said, walking up to him and draping an arm over his shoulders. "It's not just about physical age. It's also about _mental_ age. Which makes you about 40 years old, right?"

Most of Ennoshita's friends didn't even try to contain their laughter; Noya was doubled over with it, a few tear droplets streaming from his eyes to float through the air. Yamaguchi had both hands clamped over his mouth, Hinata was giggling, and even Tsukishima was smirking.

Once the laughter began to die down, Ennoshita cleared his throat. "Is there any penalty for shooting a member of your own team?" he asked, politely removing Suga's arm from his shoulders. "Repeatedly?"

"Only the fact that everyone else is free to shoot you back," Suga said, grinning as he stepped back and prepped his paintball gun. "And the fact that I'll find more subtle ways to make you regret it later, of course." Content, he strode over to the hatch and opened it, revealing what looked at first glance like a crushed mobile suit wedged into the cargo bay.

"What the hell?" Tanaka asked, blinking in surprise at the sight.

Tobio frowned, looking more closely, and realised it was one of the inflatable decoys that Defenders were equipped with. Since Minovsky particles interfered with most sensors, a lot of targeting was done visually, by matching shapes, which meant that an inflatable mobile suit wasn't quite the stupid idea it first appeared. How the hell Suga had managed to get one into the cargo bay, he had no idea, but it would make useful cover during the fight. Several inflatable beach balls were also slowly bouncing around, and a few cargo crates had been mag-clamped to the walls, ceiling, and floor to provide more hiding spots as well.

Okay, maybe this might not be so bad after all.

"Alright, form your teams," Suga said, bowing towards the hatch with a flourish as if welcoming royalty back into a palace. "Oh! And before I forget..." He reached into a pocket and pulled out three slightly crumpled golden paper crowns. "Make sure you decide who's king and get them to wear one of these on their helmets. And remember, no ranks, no nicknames, no surnames! Time to learn each other's first names. We'll start in a couple of minutes once everyone's ready."

Suga headed inside, leading his team, and then — with lots of laughing and joking — the middle team entered too, leaving just the youngest team.

"So," Hinata said eagerly, spinning to face them, "who wants to be king?"

"I would rather die than wear that hat," Tsukishima declared, staring down at the golden crown in Hinata's hand. He turned to Tobio. "I think there's only one logical candidate."

"I'll wear it," Yamaguchi said, holding out his hand to take it from Hinata. "Make sure you all protect me though! Paintballs hurt."

For a moment Tsukishima looked like Yamaguchi had just spat in his face, but he quickly hid his expression behind his combat mask. "As you command, King Tadashi."

Yamaguchi chuckled, straightening his crown. "Huh, I could get used to that."

"Don't worry, uh, Tadashi," Hinata said. "We'll keep you safe! Right, Kag— I mean, Tobio?"

Tobio sighed. "Hurry up and put on your mask, dumbass," he said.

"Are we going to plan anything?" Yamaguchi asked.

Tsukishima took a few steps towards the hatch and peered inside; Tobio went to join him, looking around curiously. Suga had dimmed the lights inside to around 50%, but although the large cargo bay was cluttered with obstacles, there was still a lot of open space. Being caught in the open was a sure-fire way to earn lots of bruises very quickly.

"We should head to that crate in the upper corner," Tsukishima said, pointing at it. "Between that and the bulkheads, we'll only have to worry about attacks from two directions instead of six. And for orientation purposes, we'll use the decoy as a guide: its head is up and its feet is down, understand?"

"Yes, yes, we get it, so let's go!" Hinata said, running past and launching himself off the deck towards the corner.

The rest followed, and after a minute Suga's voice echoed around the cargo bay. "Baby Bird Team, ready?"

"Ready!" yelled Hinata.

"Juvenile Delinquent Team, ready?"

"Oi!" Tanaka shouted.

"Nah, you know he's right!" Noya said, voice loud enough to carry around the room. "Ready!"

"Good!" Suga said, satisfied. "The Old Enough To Know Better Team is ready too. So on the count of three, have at it! Three, two, one, go!"

Immediately, the cargo bay filled with rapid _phut phut_ sounds of paintball guns firing. Hinata tugged on Tobio's overalls and said, "Come on! Let's go see if we can pick them off while they're busy. Tsuki —" He paused, turning to Tsukishima. "What's your name again?"

Tsukishima visibly deflated, and Tobio didn't need to be able to see his face to guess what he was thinking. "Kei," he muttered.

"Kei can cover King Tadashi!" Hinata said, already launching towards the inflatable mobile suit in the centre of the cargo bay. He bounced off, laughing, and started shooting at someone Tobio couldn't see. A few seconds later he yelped, flinching, and let go of his gun with a loud exclamation of, "Awww! Already?!"

"Dumbass," Tobio said, at the same time Tsukishima said, "Moron." They exchanged surprised glances before glaring at each other.

"Here they come!" Yamaguchi warned, crouching into the corner beside the crate with his gun raised.

Tobio turned, spotting a pair of attackers approaching; judging by their builds and hair, it was Noya and Tanaka. Tanaka's right arm was stained blue. They were moving fast, leaping from wall to crate to wall, so Tobio aimed up and started shooting. Tsukishima did the same beside him, and a few seconds later Tobio was gratified to see one of his shots splatter against Tanaka's face mask, blinding him. His flailing connected with Noya, accidentally shoving him away, and Tsukishima picked him off too with a shot to the stomach.

"Good work, my faithful knights!" Yamaguchi said, standing up to look around.

"Get back in cover!" Tsukishima hissed at him, and not a moment too soon, because a blue paintball splashed against the back of Tsukishima's helmet, making him swear loudly.

Tobio spotted the culprit — Suga, by the look of it — running across the ceiling, clutching one of the brightly-coloured beach balls in one hand and using it for cover. "Isn't that cheating?" he called.

"Nope!" Suga replied, firing past the ball at him and forcing Tobio to duck.

"What do we do?" Yamaguchi asked, alarmed, as more paintballs burst against the crate just above his head.

Tsukishima had let go of his gun but he was still anchored to the wall by his boots. He glanced down at Yamaguchi and then glared at Tobio, grimacing. "I can't believe I'm about to say this..." he said, sighing, before releasing his clamps and drifting into the air slightly. "Use me as cover," he said. "And you better not fuck this up."

"Are you serious, Tsukki?!" Yamaguchi gasped.

Tobio grinned, needing no further encouragement. Getting a solid grip of Tsukishima's overalls, he dragged the lanky bastard in front of him. As Tsukishima curled up in a ball to protect his head and body with his limbs, Tobio began to stomp along the ceiling towards Suga.

"Hey! That really _is_ cheating!"

"Nope," Tsukishima called back, flinching when a couple of paintballs thudded into him. "Hurry it up then!" he snapped at Tobio.

Tobio was half tempted to see how many bullets he could let Tsukishima soak up, but he didn't know if there were any other attackers apart from Suga, so he didn't waste time. Moving steadily towards Suga, he leaned out just enough to aim and shot Suga in the shin, making him yelp. Realising he was in danger, Suga stopped and crouched behind his beach ball, so Tobio threw Tsukishima at him — ignoring the alarmed "What the hell?!" he yelled in the process — and waited. The collision sent the ball and Tsukishima flying and knocked Suga off the ceiling, giving Tobio a clean shot. He fired three shots for good measure, remembering the incident in the corridor earlier, and then scanned the area. Most of the people he could see were drifting through the air, unarmed, but past the decoy mobile suit he caught a glimpse of Sawamura wearing a golden crown.

Gesturing for Yamaguchi to follow him, Tobio pointed at the mobile suit before pushing carefully off the ceiling towards it. He'd aimed for one of its arms and managed to grab it, preventing himself from bouncing off, and slowly pulled himself around it until he could peer over the top with his gun.

"That's it, Tobio!" Hinata yelled from nearby. "Get 'em! Avenge me!"

"Nooo!" Tanaka complained as he spun sedately through the air on the far side of the cargo bay. "Don't let the pipsqueaks win, Sawa- uh, Daichi!"

The decoy wobbled as Yamaguchi collided with it, joining Tobio, and together they opened fire on Sawamura. "Cover me," Tobio told him, before kicking off and connecting with the wall nearest Sawamura's position. With Yamaguchi keeping his head down, it was easy for Tobio to walk over, poke his gun over the top of the crate, and fire repeatedly until Sawamura yelled his surrender, laughing.

A piercing whistle blew through the cargo bay, making Tobio jump. It was Suga, grinning at him and waving his arms. "Round 1 goes to the youngsters, thanks to some genuinely underhanded tactics and questionable use of a corpse! Alright, take a breather, grab your guns, and get ready for round 2!"

Despite his earlier reluctance, Tobio found himself genuinely enjoying it. In the second round, both of the other teams ganged up on them for revenge, and they all died quickly in a blaze of glory, and then in the third round he and Hinata were able to sneak around the back of the 'delinquent' team, assassinating their king, Narita. The fourth round went to the oldies when they unclamped one of the crates and used it as a mobile fortress, which left the final round open: both of the other teams had one win each, while Tobio's team had two.

"Okay," Tsukishima said during their brief break. He was splattered with turquoise, yellow, and one splash of pink on his backside thanks to a cheeky shot by Hinata (who had been brutally gunned down in response). "We need to win this."

"I thought you don't care about anything?" Hinata asked, grinning. "Why suddenly so enthusiastic?"

"Tsukki hates losing," Yamaguchi said conspiratorially. His crown had torn, and what was left of it trailed from the strap of his helmet like a kind of tatty golden streamer. "He really, really hates losing."

Tsukishima sniffed and adjusted his glasses beneath his mask. "If we win now, we can cut this idiocy short and stop," he said, pointedly ignoring Yamaguchi. "But if we lose, we go on to a tie-break."

"You can't fool us, Kei," Hinata said, taunting him. "Admit it — you're having fun!"

Pointing his gun at him, Tsukishima glared. "Say that again and I'll shoot you in the throat."

Hinata laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. "Sure, sure," he said, but he exchanged a knowing look with Tobio all the same. And Tobio inexplicably found himself grinning back.

"One minute!" Suga called. "Get ready!"

Tsukishima sighed. "Enough childish babble. Look at the decoy."

Tobio did, frowning. "So what?"

"See how it's started to deflate?" Tsukishima explained, talking quickly. "It must have a leak — that's probably how Suga got hold of it. I think it's deflated enough that we can move it now. Hina— ugh," he said as Yamaguchi elbowed him, " _Shouyou._ You and Kageyama —" this time he ignored further elbowing, "— can go to its head and feet and drag it into this corner to create a barrier. Then come back here — they'll have to come to us and we can just gun them down."

"Okay, go!" Suga yelled, blowing his whistle for emphasis.

Tobio wanted to argue, but it was as good a plan as any and Hinata had already jumped for the deck where the feet were, so Tobio made his way over to the head, firing a few shots at Azumane as he came out from behind a crate. Grabbing hold of the mobile suit's head as best he could, he plodded along the ceiling, dragging the decoy behind him while Hinata did the same thing opposite.

It only took a few seconds for the others to realise what they were doing, judging by the shouts of surprise and alarm, but by then they'd built up speed, pulling the decoy far enough into the corner of the cargo bay to use it as a shield against everyone else.

What they hadn't counted on was that both the other teams would gang up on them once more, presumably in an effort to prevent the youngsters from winning. Tobio took a painful shot to the back of his thigh as he returned to cover, and Hinata had jumped so hard off the deck to get back to safety that he was shrieking in panic as he shot through the air. Tobio moved to intercept, bracing himself, but even so he got flattened as Hinata collided with him, all bony arms and flailing legs.

"Calm down, dumbass!" Tobio yelled, shoving him away before grabbing his gun from where it hovered nearby and turning it on their opponents.

Tsukishima was first to fall. Noya had somehow squeezed _underneath_ the decoy and caught them by surprise, but Yamaguchi immediately grabbed his 'dead' friend and used him as a human shield to protect himself (to much angry yelling from Tsukishima). Tobio nailed Noya in the face and shoulder with his return fire, eliminating him, but by then a roar from Tanaka, Ennoshita, Azumane, and Kinoshita warned them of a fresh attack from the other direction. This time, Tobio was the one to get shot — several times.

He let go of his weapon, swearing loudly (and he was sure a few more shots hit him even after he surrendered), but thanks to their defensive position and Tsukishima acting as meatshield, they'd managed to hold them all off, with only Kinoshita escaping alive.

In the brief moment of calm before the next attack, Hinata nudged Tobio and said, "Can I use you as a shield?"

Tobio scowled, but he felt Tsukishima's eyes on him so he gave a jerky nod. "Don't fucking lose."

"I won't," Hinata said, smiling as he crouched down behind him. "You might want to protect your head, by the way."

With Hinata resting his gun on Tobio's shoulder like he was some kind of human tripod, they faced the third and final wave — Suga, Sawamura, Kinoshita, and Narita charged them, all four using beach balls to shield themselves.

"Ow, ow, OW!" Tobio yelled as paintballs thudded into his body, and he quickly regretted giving Hinata permission to use him as a human shield. But Hinata was taking his time, waiting for a clear shot, and with his first pellet he hit Narita in the side — one enemy king down.

"Go for Sawamura!" Tsukishima yelled in between yelping with pain. "Take down the king!"

"Save the king!" Suga shouted back in return, moving to block line of sight to Sawamura, but in the process he opened a hole in their line and let Hinata land a shot dead centre in Kinoshita's chest, making him squeal.

"Oi! That really hurt!"

"Tobio, unlock your boots!" Hinata hissed in his ear. The moment Tobio obeyed, Hinata screamed "FOR THE KING!" at the top of his lungs and launched them both off the deck into the air, bouncing off the decoy and spraying Sawamura and Suga with paintballs from above while _still_ using Tobio as a shield.

"Alright, alright, we surrender!" Suga laughed, throwing away his gun and his beach ball.

Hinata wrapped an arm around Tobio, squeezing tight and laughing, "We won!" he yelled, as if he wasn't right next to Tobio's ear.

"Get off!" Tobio complained, trying to pry himself free. "Do you have any idea how many bruises I've got now?"

"Sorry, sorry!" Hinata said, still laughing; he looked almost delirious with happiness. "Oh man, that was so much fun! Suga, can we do one more?"

His enthusiasm was apparently shared by enough of the team — Noya and Tanaka were particularly vocal — that Suga gave in, chuckling and holding up a hand to call for quiet.

"Alright, alright," he said, smiling brightly. "One more. But we'll change things up a little bit, I think." He turned to Yamaguchi. "Since you're the winners, you can pick one member from each of the other teams to join your team, then we'll play six on six for the final round, okay? Then I'm afraid we have to clean up!"

"Can't we just, like, open the hatch and vent everything to space?" Kinoshita asked.

"We're in spacedock, so all that would achieve is to litter the port with empty crates and a mostly deflated mobile suit decoy," Ennoshita said dryly. "I'm sure that would make Governor Ukai real happy."

Meanwhile, Hinata had released Tobio and had clamped on to Nishinoya instead. "I choose you, Yuu!"

It was a good choice, and nobody else argued; Noya was very sneaky, as his attempt to crawl under the decoy proved, and he was also surprisingly agile in zero-g.

"In that case," Tsukishima said, "we need someone sane to balance things out." He nodded at Suga. "Though I employ the term lightly in your case."

"Why Kei, I'm touched," Suga said, holding a hand to his chest and fluttering his eyelashes. "Alright, sure. This way I get to be on the winning team!"

"How do you know they'll win?" Tanaka demanded.

Suga chuckled in a most condescending way, as though Tanaka had just asked what two plus two was. "Any team I'm part of is the winning team, Ryuunosuke!"

"We'll see about that," Sawamura said, wearing his most terrifying smile. "But at least your new teammates will be closer to your mental age."

Ennoshita laughed, unrepentant even in the face of Suga's indignant glare.

"Let's just get ready, shall we?" Azumane said, apparently in an attempt to keep the peace. "And maybe no human shields for this last round? I think we've all got enough bruises already."

"Alright," Suga agreed, glancing at Tsukishima. "But let's put the decoy back in the middle first."

As it turned out, the decoy was too deflated to stay still, so it sort of gently bobbed around the middle of the room while both teams prepared themselves, each taking opposite corners of the cargo bay as their bases.

"So, King Tadashi, what's the plan?" Noya asked, casually propping his paintball gun on his shoulder and his other hand on his hip. The only things he needed to complete the picture were a cigar and a bandana.

"He's so cool," Hinata muttered dreamily, standing next to Tobio, and honestly Tobio had to agree.

Yamaguchi looked to Tsukishima, who exchanged a complicated glance with Suga. "The decoy, I assume?"

Suga's grin was blinding. "I knew you'd figure it out, Kei!"

"Uh, care to explain for those of us who aren't apparently telepathic?" Noya asked, frowning.

"The decoy is mostly deflated," Tsukishima explained. "If someone — or all of us — were to jump straight into the centre of it, it'll fold around us and our momentum will carry it across the room."

Suga nodded excitedly. "We'll squish most of the enemy and then we can just shoot whoever's left!"

Hinata clapped his hands. "You guys are brilliant, you know that? Okay, let's all do it! One final glorious battle!"

The moment Suga reached the end of the countdown, all six of them jumped off the wall, aiming for the mobile suit. As Tsukishima had said, it kind of swallowed them up, but there was still enough air left in it that when it hit the opposite side — resulting in several muffled yelps of shock — the rebound sent them all flying backwards, giving them a perfect shot at the rest of the enemy team as they tried to crawl from beneath the floppy mobile suit. They were all laughing, even Tobio, as they picked off their surprised opponents one by one. Once the decoy had drifted up a little, it was easy to split up and advance on Sawamura, who had stayed in cover as the enemy king.

It was over in less than two minutes.

Unfortunately, cleaning up took a lot longer — especially since they also had to wipe the paint off the walls — but even that was enjoyable in its own way, since they were all laughing and joking and retelling their favourite moments from the fight. Everyone agreed it had been fun to do something physical and shoot real targets for a change after spending so much time in the simulators. Even Tsukishima didn't look as sour as normal, though he continued to complain loudly about all the bruises he'd picked up protecting Yamaguchi.

"You could have been king instead, Tsukki," Yamaguchi told him eventually, waggling his eyebrows, and that shut him up quickly. The torn remains of Yamaguchi's crown were still visible sticking out of one of his pockets.

Afterwards, they gathered in the mess so that Suga could present their prizes — a selection of freshly baked cakes from the colony for everyone, and four more crowns bearing the inscription "I AM THE PAINTBALL KING" for the victorious team (though only Yamaguchi and Hinata agreed to wear them).

"And to wrap it all up," Suga said cheerfully, "I've got permission to hold another karaoke evening with Nekoma at the Halfway House Inn tonight. I hope you'll all join me! I promise not to make you sing, though I won't promise not to sing _at_ you." This last was aimed at Tsukishima with a devious wink.

While everyone laughed, Hinata immediately turned to Tobio. "Will you come this time?"

He wrinkled his nose, thinking about, before accepting defeat with a long sigh.

"Okay. Just this once."

 

* * *

 

"Honestly, Kenma, the amount Kageyama was complaining, you'd think he got shot with _actual_ bullets."

Kenma sighed, keeping his eyes on the screen, though it's not like he really needed to focus. Shouyou's mind was obviously only partly on the game and he was well behind in the race. "Did you tell him that?"

"Yes! And he blamed me for most of them!" Shouyou fumed. "So much for any gratitude. I thought he might loosen up last night at the bar but he just sort of sat there, staring at people and not saying anything."

"Mmm, I was there too, remember?" Kenma said absently, wondering if he should actually stop and let Shouyou catch up to make it more of a challenge. "Maybe he thought it was better to stay quiet and be thought a fool than to open his mouth and remove any doubt."

It took Shouyou a moment to process that before he burst out laughing. "The paintball was a ton of fun though, even if I am covered in little bruises now. It's a pity you weren't there too! Maybe next time it could be Karasuno versus Nekoma?"

Kenma added a mental note to make sure to sabotage that idea at the first opportunity. If Tora and the other muscleheads got wind of it, it'd gain too much momentum to stop.

"I'm honestly surprised Kageyama turned up," he said, starting his final lap. "Especially after everything that happened, I mean."

"He's been making an effort," Shouyou said. He stopped talking and stuck his tongue out in an adorable fashion as he negotiated a tricky chicane. "Not a very successful one, but he's trying."

Glancing sideways at him, Kenma sighed. "I still don't understand why you covered for him."

"Because he's my rival!" Shouyou declared, unwisely taking his eyes off the game and crashing almost immediately. "Well, kinda. But also because he really is a good pilot. Don't tell him this, but I've actually been learning stuff from him! If only he wasn't so annoying."

Kenma rolled his eyes, searching for a way to move the conversation on to a less repetitive topic. He didn't mind the complaining — especially when Kageyama was the target — but he'd prefer Shouyou to concentrate on their game or what was the point in playing it? "Well, as skilled as he is, I'm glad he's in your team and not mine."

"I'd be glad if I could beat him more often in our duels. I don't like being the underdog all the time," Shouyou complained, leaning as he swerved his car round the corner. He always did that, even when he wasn't fully paying attention; Kenma found it oddly endearing. He'd duck when the video game characters shot at him, yell at them when they killed him or when he lost a race, and just generally threw himself into each game with the same exuberance he gave every other activity.

Kenma huffed a few times, the closest he came to open laughter. "I'm sure most people feel the same way." He shrugged, putting the controller down as he raced across the finishing line. "Having a rival can be a good thing, though. It pushes you to improve."

It was several seconds later when Shouyou crossed the line, dropping the controller in disgust and glaring at Kenma. "Are you saying I suck at video games?"

His lips quirked up into a smile all on their own. "That too," Kenma agreed, "but I was talking more about Kageyama."

Shouyou crossed his arms and frowned. "One day I'll get him to admit I'm a good pilot," he said firmly. "And you! I'll beat you at this game one day, you'll see. I'll practise night and day!"

"Maybe focus on piloting first," Kenma told him, reaching for the popcorn they'd been nibbling on throughout their games evening.

It had, surprisingly, been Shouyou's idea — a way of unwinding after another day of training simulations. Kenma had made no secret of his love of video games, getting into a fairly long conversation about them at the Halfway House the night before, and out of the blue Shouyou had suggested they play some together the next evening.

"Just us?" Kenma had asked, taken aback.

"Unless you want to invite anyone else," Shouyou had replied, guilelessly. "But I know you don't like being with lots of people at once."

And so there they were in Kenma's quarters, sharing a bowl of popcorn and some fizzy drinks, the sound system playing some pop music that Shouyou liked while Kenma thrashed him at all of his favourite games. It was... fun. There was something open and disarming about Shouyou, something that allowed him to relax in a way that ordinarily he would only ever permit around Kuro, and it was nice to play games with another person for a change. Kuro had given up years ago.

"Kenma," Shouyou said while he was selecting a different game, drawing out his name and stretching the last syllable curiously. "Why won't you try the Quickshot with me?"

Kenma stilled. "Why does it matter?"

Shouyou shrugged. "Because if you can do it too, then I don't need to rely on Kageyama for it all. I know he's tested it with a few of your team, as well as the rest of Karasuno."

"And?"

"And I'm the only one who can do it," Shouyou replied, a little smugly. "But Suga can't do it with me, and neither can Teshiro, and you won't even try it. Why not?"

Kenma met his eyes, so open and curious and puzzled, and he knew he'd have to give him a serious answer. But in all honesty it wasn't an easy question. He'd thought about it several times, and watched the replays of their simulations and recordings of their actual battles against Aobajohsai and Nekoma, assessing the Quickshot, disassembling it in his mind and trying to understand it. There were a few reasons for his reluctance, some of which Kenma didn't really understand himself yet. "There's not just a single reason," he admitted finally.

Shouyou grabbed a handful of popcorn and stuffed it into his mouth. "So what's the first?"

"It scares me."

At first Shouyou laughed, then he trailed off as he realised Kenma was serious. "What? Why?"

Kenma selected the next game — an old-school fighting game, something a bit more casual and quicker to play than a racing game. He absently picked his way through the menus, selecting a duel mode and picking out his favourite character, an elusive fighter who specialised in long range magic attacks. In the meantime, he tried his best to explain. "Have you ever watched a recording of you two doing it?" he asked. "Especially from Kageyama's point of view?"

Shouyou shook his head, selecting a character apparently at random — a hulking, close-in brawler whose special ability allowed him to set himself on fire. Not a good match against Kenma's character. "I never even thought to."

"I have. It's scary, Shouyou. There are times when you fire so quickly after Kageyama paints the target that it's as though _he_ 's the one firing. And the really freaky thing is that you get _faster_."

"Huh?"

The first round started and Kenma immediately started spamming magic fireballs at Shouyou, keeping him at a distance and whittling away at his HP bar. "I've not timed it to test for certain, but I'm pretty sure that the more shots you two attempt in quick succession, the faster your reaction gets. It's the opposite to what I'd expect."

"I've... not really noticed," Shouyou admitted, frowning and jerking the controller around as he tried to jump over the fireballs and close in on Kenma's character. "Gah! Get up, you idiot!" he complained when his character got knocked over.

"If you activate your special ability, you'd be immune to the fireballs," Kenma pointed out.

"How?"

Kenma shook his head, smiling fondly, and borrowed Shouyou's controller to demonstrate. "Like that."

To his credit, Shouyou did learn fast; he immediately activated his spontaneous combustion ability and closed in. Kenma dodged out of the way until it ran out, then resumed his attack during the cooldown.

"So what else?" Shouyou asked. "I mean, okay, it's a bit freaky. Even I can admit that. But aren't you still curious?"

Kenma charged up his special attack while Shouyou was distracted and unleashed it, blasting Shouyou's character out of the ring. "I don't like to lose," he said. "In a way, not knowing whether I can do it is better than knowing I can't." He looked at Shouyou, smirking at his disgruntled expression, and raised an eyebrow. "You're not the only one intimidated by Kageyama's skill, you know."

"Oh?" Shouyou asked, the game momentarily forgotten. "You mean you? Really? But you're, like, a mastermind genius!"

He doubted he'd ever get used to the way Shouyou could just come out with compliments like that; until he did, he'd have to learn to live with the blushing and the embarrassment. "Shouyou..." he whined, hiding his face behind his hair.

"But you are! Everyone in Nekoma says so. Kuroo might be in command but even he says you're the brain of the team."

"But I'd be nothing without them," Kenma admitted, still ducking his head. "I'm not like Kageyama. The two of you could probably demolish any unprepared mobile suit team by yourselves."

"You think?" Shouyou asked, sitting up straight; Kenma didn't need to look at him to know he was wearing a proud smile. "But I don't want to just be Kageyama's weapon, you know? I'm not a gun for him to point and shoot with. I want to be an equal partner."

They fell silent for a while as they started the second round, Shouyou wasting no time in dashing closer, activating his special ability straight away. This time he kept the pressure up on Kenma, not letting him dictate the range, and although it was close, he knocked out Kenma's character with a final jump attack. "Ha! Got you that time."

"How can you be an equal partner though, Shouyou?" Kenma asked him. "In the Quickshot, you always have to be the one to respond to Kageyama, not the other way around."

"Do I?" he shot back, shrugging. "Why can't I be the one to choose the targets, to take the lead?"

"Because choosing the targets is literally Kageyama's job, and he has the time to do it because the rest of the team is protecting him."

Shouyou grabbed his bottle and gulped down some fizzy orange concoction only marginally more vivid than his unruly hair. "I'm not so sure. But Kageyama refuses to try anything different." He turned back to Kenma, glaring. "Anyway, we were talking about you. I'm still not convinced — so what if you're jealous of Kageyama? If you _can_ pull off the Quickshot, then you've got nothing to be worried about, right?"

Kenma sighed. "I'm sure I can't," he said. "But it's not just about being jealous of Kageyama." He closed his mouth after that, unwilling to go further.

They started the final round, Shouyou apparently content to be distracted, at least for a few minutes. This time Kenma didn't hold back, and although the fight was more even than the first round, he still demolished Shouyou's character in short order. It was inevitable, really; he knew every move for every character, while Shouyou on the other hand was mostly just button mashing.

"Stupid game," Shouyou grumbled. "Pick me out a better character and I'll practise with just that one. I don't have time to learn them all."

Kenma dutifully went back to the character selection screen and picked one out, an acrobatic fighter capable of rapid strikes whose special ability allowed her to teleport around the ring. "This one is a bit like you," he said, smiling as he demonstrated against the AI. "Fast and unpredictable."

He'd apparently mollified Shouyou, judging by his eager grin, so after he won the first round he handed the controller over and showed Shouyou a few key moves. And then he sat back and watched, smiling as Shouyou yelled with excitement when he mastered the teleportation, and offering a few tips and corrections along the way.

It wasn't just about being jealous of Kageyama. True, Kageyama's skill was remarkable, and in a one-on-one duel, Kenma would almost certainly lose. But team against team? Or coordinator versus coordinator? Kenma was pretty sure he'd come out on top. He'd figured out a few potential ways to neutralise the Quickshot — most of which relied on neutralising Shouyou himself, not that he'd tell him that — and their training over the past couple of weeks had proven that Karasuno was still too rough around the edges, too fragmented, to beat the Nekoma's more cohesive teamwork. Individually, Karasuno probably had the edge — they had some truly talented pilots, Shouyou included — but as he'd said earlier, Kenma wasn't fighting alone: he had his team around him.

"Argh! He got me!" Shouyou complained as his character got knocked flat by a heavy blow.

"Yes, you need to watch out," Kenma told him. "Your character relies on speed and agility, but she's not very tough."

No, it wasn't just about being jealous of Kageyama. In a way, what would bother Kenma the most was not being able to pull off the Quickshot with Shouyou. He wasn't quite ready to analyse those feelings yet, the disappointment it would entail, but he did know one thing for sure: he'd learnt enough about Shouyou to know that even if they failed, Shouyou would keep pestering him to try again and again until they did manage it.

Better to refuse. It was like quantum physics; until they tested it out, the answer was indeterminate. Kenma could cope with indeterminate. He wasn't so sure he could cope with a failure.

"Can I ask _you_ a question?" he asked while Shouyou fought his way through the third round, being a bit more careful this time.

"Of course!" Shouyou said, tearing his eyes from the screen just long enough to grin at him. "Anything you like."

"You shouldn't say stuff like that," Kenma teased him. "Or else one day someone will ask you a question you're not prepared for."

"Nah," Shouyou said, shaking his head. "Questions don't scare me."

"Alright," Kenma said. "Kageyama. Do you trust him?"

Shouyou paused the game, his eyes flickering across the display like he was trying to memorise it. "This is about the thing that happened at his academy."

That certainly had a lot to do with it. Kenma had kept his opinions to himself, not interfering when Sugawara spoke to Kuro about it or when Kuro then (quietly) made the facts known throughout the rest of the team. The general reaction had been surprise and wariness, but by then most of them had met Kageyama and trained with him, and while they might not like him, nobody — not even Tora, who was typically the most hostile to strangers — believed he was a murderer. And before long their gruelling training schedule had forced them to focus on more pressing concerns and the matter had been more or less forgotten.

But Kenma had looked up the details. He'd stayed up late the night he found out reading through the transcripts of the inquest, even looking at the recordings; they hadn't been too hard to obtain for someone with his skill set. It had been an accident, yes, but that didn't mean Kageyama wasn't the cause of it.

"Mostly," he said.

Shouyou sighed, brushing his hair with his fingers; it only made it messier. He kept his eyes on the controller in his lap. "You don't like him, do you?" he asked, peering at Kenma out of the corner of his eye.

"Not really," Kenma admitted, "especially not since you told me he tried to go join the Loyalists. But then I don't like most people, so maybe I'm not the best one to be passing judgement."

Clasping his hands together, Shouyou let his shoulders slump and pulled a face. "Most people don't like him. I mean, it's not like he makes it easy, he's a grumpy bastard for sure. I can't even say if _I_ like him, as a friend I mean." He met Kenma's eyes with an earnest gaze. "I said he's my rival, but I'm not his, not yet. I want to be. But he's one of the best pilots I've ever met, and I'm not good enough right now." He looked away, smiling softly. "So I'm willing to give him a chance. After all, he trusts me to shoot the targets he lights up, and I trust him to light them up. The Quickshot wouldn't work otherwise."

Kenma nodded. "Okay. Just don't let him push you too far. I know what you're like, Shouyou — you never back down from a challenge. If he wanted you to try something risky, something he himself might be capable of but you're not..."

Just like he'd done with Fernandez at the academy.

"I know I get carried away sometimes, Kenma," Shouyou said, frowning. "But I'm not an idiot. I can take care of myself."

When Kenma said nothing else, he shrugged and picked up the controller to unpause the game. Kenma watched him for a while, staying quiet until the tension in Shouyou's shoulders lessened and he fell back into the rhythm of the game, adding his own sound effects to punctuate particularly good moves.

He'd voiced his main concern, and Shouyou had listened. That would have to be enough. All he could do now was observe and prepare to intervene if it became necessary.

"Do you have any rivals, Kenma?" Shouyou suddenly asked as he laid into the AI player, kicking them repeatedly.

"Maybe with Tora, I suppose," he said after thinking about it.

"Yamamoto? How come?"

Shouyou yelled with victory before he could reply, throwing up both hands and doing a little victory dance that, since he was seated, ended up being more of a weird wriggle. "Sorry," he said, smiling and reaching for a handful of popcorn. "Go on."

"Tora likes to push me," Kenma explained, taking a sip of his lemonade. "Taunt me, even. I think he means it fondly, but it can be annoying. He always goes on and on about backbone, and perseverance, and it's exhausting."

"I can see how that might annoy you," Shouyou admitted, grinning. "You're not the most, um... energetic person."

Kenma snorted with laughter. "At least you're more polite than he is," he said, pelting Shouyou with a few bits of popcorn.

"Hey, I can be tactful! Sometimes, at least," Shouyou protested, laughing as he shielded himself from the bombardment with his hands. "But maybe some encouragement is what you need! Just think what you could do if you really put your mind to it." Humour still danced in his big brown eyes — which were inquisitive and full of life, always moving, just like Shouyou himself. "And you don't like to lose, right?"

"And I don't like to lose," Kenma agreed. "But you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"Damn right!" Shouyou said, smacking one fist into his palm. "Which is why I demand a rematch now that I've got the hang of this character!"

Kenma grinned, reaching for his own controller. "I won't take it easy on you."

Shouyou grinned back. "Bring it on."

 


	14. Outbreak of War

When Asahi awoke to the wail of sirens, it took his sleep-addled brain several seconds to realise it wasn't part of one of his regular nightmares, that it was _real_. The dreaded call to battle stations was once more screaming through the decks of the _Karasuno_.

Pulling on his boots and enough of his uniform to pass as decent, he joined the flow of frantic, newly-roused crew as they ran through the ship to reach their posts. Asahi made his way up out of the gravity block towards the hangar, shivering with adrenaline and rapidly-cooling sleep sweat, and clung to the possibility that it was just a drill. They'd all been training hard over the past couple of weeks, but they'd never run a ship-wide drill. Maybe Ukai had decided it was time?

But when he anchored himself to the deck once more as he ran to the pilots' locker room, that faint hope died within him. The deck was vibrating as the _Karasuno_ 's mighty engines flared to life, meaning the ship was preparing to leave spacedock.

It wasn't a drill.

Several of the other pilots were in the locker room, and more joined shortly afterwards; Noya had made the trip almost naked, wearing only his magnetic boots and underwear ("Why get dressed if I'm only going to change out of it again?" he'd protested). As they raced to change into their pilot suits, they exchanged terse questions — mostly variations of "What's going on?" — but there were no answers to be had yet. Daichi promised to find out as he quickly chivvied them out into the hangars.

The port hangar was already depressurised by the time Asahi entered, but that didn't stop the pressure suit-clad technicians from crawling over the mobile suits, making final preparations for launch. Suga clapped him and Daichi on the shoulders and gave them both a thumbs up before they all pushed off from the deck, floating towards the waiting maws of their open cockpits.

The familiar routine of buckling himself into the harness and going through the Avenger's start-up procedure kept Asahi occupied, preventing his mind from spiralling into a panic. Even so, his hands were shaking, his whole _body_ was shaking, and he wished the fleeting moments of preparation could stretch out longer, to delay launching for a minute or two more. He needed _time_ , time to think, to steady himself. He had too many questions, too many uncertainties, didn't even know what was waiting outside—

"Hold it together," he mumbled to himself, swallowing hard as he ran down the checklist: reactor ignition OK, propulsion system startup OK, sensor diagnostic running OK, comms check... Oh yes, comms check. Jabbing the button, he listened in for a moment — there was a hiss of static from all the Minovsky particle interference — and cleared his voice. "Uh, Karasuno Avenger 3, checking in," he said.

The rest of the team was checking in too, and since they now shared a channel with Nekoma, he could hear some of them check in as well. One or two were sleepy, others excited (especially Noya, of course), but most sounded tense and scared.

Asahi's panoramic display flickered to life, showing him the interior of the hangar. Outside his cockpit, now sealed up, he could see flashing orange warning lights: a few seconds later, the enormous hangar doors began to grind open. If there had still been air in the hangar, the noise would probably have deafened anyone inside, but apart from a faint tremor that he could feel even through his mobile suit, it was eerily silent.

Captain Ukai was clearly wasting no time; the _Karasuno_ was already underway, passing through the inner doors of Miyagi's spacedock.

Busying himself with additional systems checks, Asahi paused when he heard Daichi speak over the comm. " _Listen up, pilots_ ," he said; he sounded calm, but Asahi had known him long enough to hear an edge of apprehension bubbling just underneath. " _We'll be launching the moment our ships clear the outer doors. Probes have picked up a large number of mobile suits — twenty at least — passing the outer perimeter. You know the drill by now, so form up just like we trained and get ready to intercept. Karasuno 1 out._ "

The last, flickering flame of hope that it was just a false alarm got snuffed out somewhere in Asahi's chest. It felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of his lungs at once, replaced by something heavy and thick and cloying, like tar.

It was actually happening. The Loyalists had finally come. _Shit._

Kuroo cut in next, not quite as calm as Daichi but defying the gravity of the situation by being more upbeat and informal. " _We've all done this enough times that it should be second nature by now_ ," he said smoothly. " _I bet you could do it in your sleep, which is just as well given how dozy some of you looked. But you each know what your individual roles are, so focus on carrying those out and trust your teammates to play their own parts. We can do this. Kuroo out._ "

He sounded so confident that Asahi nearly believed him, but unlike most of the pilots who would have been listening, Asahi knew that all the calming words in the world flew out the window once people actually started shooting at you. There wasn't time to take a breath and let words of wisdom inspire you; you were too busy screaming internally, reacting instinctively, fighting desperately to survive.

" _Here we go!_ " Noya cheered as the outer doors cracked open.

When a mobile suit carrier wanted to launch its mobile suits in a hurry, it could catapult them into space mere seconds apart. So before Asahi knew it, even though he was third in the launch queue, he was already being pushed back against his harness as the electromagnetic rails shot his Avenger into the void. He quickly steadied the suit, activating its thrusters to swing around the colony and join the rest of the team on their way to meet the threat.

Nekomata's voice crackled over the comm. " _The incoming mobile suits are refusing to communicate and haven't responded to our warnings, so consider them hostile_ ," he said. " _The minefield in that sector has been activated, so be careful not to stray into it yourselves as you intercept. Good luck._ "

They were close enough now for their sensors — or at least the more powerful sensors on their four Conductors, which were fitted with extra countermeasures capable of more easily cutting through the interference — to get a better look at the approaching mobile suits.

" _What the fuck_ ," Suga said, utterly dumbfounded.

A moment later, as the tactical data fed through the mobile suits' laser network, Asahi saw why. All of the oncoming suits — twenty four of them — were painted in either Karasuno or Nekoma colours. Even at a distance, the distinctive orange or red highlights were clear. Even their friend-or-foe IFF transponders, struggling to penetrate the dense blanket of Minovsky particles, were proclaiming the same thing.

According to their sensors, they weren't merely facing other Federation mobile suits — they were literally fighting themselves.

" _Quickly, everyone, override your IFF system,_ " Kozume urged. " _And don't rely on manual targeting or else you might hit a friendly."_

 _"As long as you're connected to our Conductors, we can identify you and identify your targets,"_  Suga added. _"Let us do the work instead._ "

Asahi could see the incoming mobile suits with his own eyes now, a cluster of white streaks accelerating towards them. He started trying to override his automatic friend-or-foe system, but that meant digging through seldom-used menus. He hadn't even found the right options before being distracted by a handful of small explosions, lighting up around the enemy like fireworks celebrating their arrival — some of the mines were detonating. They didn't seem to have much effect, though one of the enemy suits slowed down and then suddenly vanished in a blinding ball of light.

" _Uh, lucky hit?_ " Tanaka wondered aloud, but there was no chance to speculate because the enemy suits were nearly in firing range.

" _Get ready,"_ Daichi warned. " _Remember the plan."_

Following the strategy they'd trained for, the combined forces of Karasuno and Nekoma were split into three groups. Half of the mobile suits — including most of the Avengers and Defenders, with Suga and Kageyama — had moved to the front, forming a screening group. Their goal was to intercept the enemy as far from the colony as possible, to keep them from being able to attack it. A smaller force of Bombardiers, along with Kozume and a small escort, was tasked with providing supporting fire and if necessary counter-attacking the enemy mothership to force a withdrawal. And if all else failed, the few who still held moral objections formed a third group, holding near the colony to act as a reserve in case of emergency.

The training had been rocky to start with, to say the least, but both teams had gradually started to get the hang of it, giving them confidence that they had a workable plan and the ability to carry it out.

So just like in the simulations, Asahi was on the front line, watching the distance estimates count down as the two forces closed. Suga and Daichi were beside him, along with Noya and Tanaka and the others, and he tried to convince himself that this really _was_ just another simulation, that there was no need for his heart to try to hammer its way out of his ribcage, for his breathing to be so rapid and shallow.

Not even his worst nightmares had prepared him for what happened next.

The moment they were in range, as one, _all_ of the enemy mobile suits fired on Daichi. One moment his Avenger was there, coasting along on the opposite side of Suga from Asahi, and the next he was gone — torn apart by a sudden flurry of particle blasts and railgun rounds.

" _DAICHI!_ " Suga yelled, a strangled cry of shock and grief and fear. And then, with another flash of concentrated, inhumanly coordinated fire, he too was gone.

A scream was boiling in Asahi's lungs, clawing at his throat, trying to escape, but he was too stunned to even breathe. This could not be real. It could _not be real_. No way. It was a simulation, a dream, a _nightmare_ —

In less than five seconds, everything had fallen apart.

Dimly, Asahi could hear panicked cries, screams of rage and horror, and garbled instructions all blending together to form a deafening cacophony. His eyes were open, but he wasn't really taking in what he was seeing, as though his brain had forgotten what any of it meant. There were just multicoloured lights blinking urgently, white streaks cutting angrily across his field of view as the mobile suits clashed, interlaced with lances of yellow from particle beams.

" _— fall back, dammit! They're targeting —_ "

" _—hi, you've got to move! Please, wake up!_ "

" _— are getting past us, we've got to stop —"_

" _—uck, I can't even tell who I'm supposed to be shooting at..._ "

Then suddenly it was three years ago. He was back in his old Jegan at the Battle of Axis. Asahi's lungs stopped working as his heart tried to claw its way up his throat; he choked, shaking his head, gasping for air and trying frantically to block out the memories.

They were always so crystal clear. It wasn't like a memory, or even a nightmare. It was like being transported back through time, to relive the worst moment of his life.

_The Neo Zeon suits were chasing him, three on one, and it was taking everything he had, every scrap of skill, every drop of energy, to stay alive just a little bit longer. He was living one second at a time, dodging, firing randomly back at his pursuers, anything he could think of to survive. His mobile suit took a glancing blow, then another, sending sparks and fragments of metal shooting around the cockpit. Blood and sweat and tears dripped down his face as his panic reached a crescendo. This was how it was going to end: he was going to die, alone and afraid, and he'd never —_

_But then he saw it: a wrecked destroyer, tumbling through space over to his left, still glowing a dull red in places where the heat of its violent death had yet to radiate away. He adjusted course and stressed his thrusters to maximum, ducking under and around it. When he popped up on the other side, he had his rifle aimed without even thinking. Even as a particle beam shot past him, making him flinch, he pulled the trigger._

_The exploding mobile suit blinded him momentarily, and he shielded his eyes with his hand. Once he could see again, he realised he'd lost track of his other two pursuers._

_There. One had swung around the ship to his right, and with a sickening wrench of his gut, he saw the other dart around the wreck to his left. He was a sitting duck, caught in a crossfire, all alone._

_He closed his eyes and breathed a final trembling breath, waiting for the inevitable... but it never came._

_"We're here, Asahi!" Daichi yelled, a particle beam spearing the first enemy, causing it to explode. The second turned, taken by surprise, only to be destroyed by a shot from Suga._

_"Sorry it took us so long," Suga said cheerfully._

"Daichi..." he mumbled, leaning forward until his harness bit into his shoulders, his arms wrapped tightly around his body and his knees drawn up to meet them. "Suga!"

They were gone.

It simultaneously made no sense — how could a world exist without his best friends in it? — and made perfect sense, because it was a scenario he'd experienced all too often in his dreams. Sometimes they never came to rescue him. Sometimes they did and they were killed first while he watched. Had he brought this on, somehow? Had he imagined it so many times that he'd made it come true?

He owed _everything_ to them. Everything. They were the only reason he'd stayed on after... after last time, because he couldn't bear to leave them, to let them fight on without him. And because they were the only people who truly understood, the only people who had been there.

Now they were gone.

He screamed, again and again, an incoherent expression of horror and grief so strong that it could never be contained. He wailed until his throat was so raw, his voice so hoarse, that he could barely speak.

Something collided with his suit, jerking him painfully in his harness, and a loud, clear voice cut through the numb, exhausted haze in his brain. " _ASAHI! Asahi, are you alright? Can you hear me? It's Noya! Come on, man, we need you!_ "

Noya's Defender was clinging to his side, blocking the view in that direction. Gently, the Defender's enormous fist rapped on his cockpit, making it ring like a resounding bell. " _You in there?_ " Noya asked desperately. " _Asahi!_ "

"I'm—" Asahi coughed, his throat tickling painfully. He could barely see; his vision was obscured by floating tears. He flipped open the visor on his helmet, wiped away the tears, and cleared his throat. "I'm here, Noya."

" _Thank fuck! We need to move, c'mon!_ "

It took Asahi a moment to regain his bearings. Their formation had completely scattered, and without Suga's Conductor, all of the tactical information Asahi's Avenger had been receiving was suddenly cut off. Ordinarily the second Conductor would pick up the slack, but Kageyama had also gone dark on his sensors and no link had been established with either of Nekoma's coordinators.

With another sickening flicker of memory, Asahi realised it was just like the last war, before there even were combat coordination suits or the close-knit tactical mesh networks they now relied on. Back then, each mobile suit had been on its own once combat began, and each pilot had to rely on their own eyes, their own instincts, without a friendly voice in their ear to guide them.

Without Suga. Without Daichi.

"I can't, Noya."

He couldn't even tell what was real and what wasn't anymore. Flashes of memory mingled with the dregs of old dreams and familiar nightmares, all mixed up with a reality too strange and too shocking to be comprehended. For a moment, he couldn't understand what Noya was even doing there, at the Battle of Axis. Wasn't he a cadet? But there was no asteroid, no Axis — there was a colony instead, Miyagi...

" _Come on, Asahi! We need our ace!_ "

His mind was imploding, collapsing in on itself, as his limbs shook and his heart thundered erratically. It felt like his body had forgotten how to function, as though it couldn't decide whether it was alive or dead, and every frayed nerve and overloaded synapse was firing at once in frantic desperation.

"I CAN'T!" he bellowed. He kicked out at the controls, sobbing, and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to block out the images.

Suga pulling off his helmet to reveal mussed hair and a wide grin. Daichi so shaky with relief that he couldn't even stand.

He'd never see either of them again.

"I can't, Noya, I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I'm so sorry, I just can't."

When Noya finally spoke, he sounded utterly broken. " _Please, Asahi, you've got to. Our friends are out there fighting, dying!_ Please _, I'm begging you..._ "

Every word was like a punch to the gut. Every sentence left him breathless and wrung yet more tears from him.

"I can't," he whispered. "Not alone. Not without them."

" _You're not alone! You've got me, and Ryuu, and Chika—_ "

Asahi couldn't bear it any longer. He reached out and flicked a switch to silence the comm.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled, burying his face in his hands.

 

* * *

 

Shouyou had no idea what the hell was happening.

One moment he had been poised to attack, one sweaty finger hovering over the trigger, and the next everything got turned on its head. He hadn't even realised Sawamura had been hit until they'd got Suga too, and that's when his instincts took over and conscious thought basically ceased. There wasn't time to think, only to act, like his eyes and ears were talking directly to his hands and feet by shooting arcs of electricity through his body.

Kageyama prompted it. He suddenly kicked his suit sideways at max acceleration, curving into a corkscrew with his I-Field activated in front of him. Unthinking, Shouyou followed, shooting at the enemy mobile suits his systems had bracketed, but none of his shots were landing and he couldn't understand what Kageyama was doing. Shouldn't they be trying to use their Quickshot?

Barely as soon as the half-formed thought had entered his mind, a whirlwind of particle beams streaked through space, stabbing at Kageyama. One shot past Shouyou, dazzling him and grazing his Avenger, which kicked off a series of alarms and flashing warnings, but he wasn't the target: Kageyama was. Some missed, given the speed he was going and the way he was juking about randomly, and some were soaked up by his I-Field, but no defence could stand up to that much firepower at once.

"Kageyama!" Shouyou yelled, diving towards him, and he nearly puked with relief when he saw Kageyama's suit emerge from the onslaught in more or less one piece. The left arm had been literally vaporised, taking its I-Field with it, and the rest of the mobile suit was scorched and scarred and horribly messed up, but the Conductor was still intact. It twitched feebly, its remaining thrusters firing in random, jerky bursts, but there was no communication and the stream of tactical data had cut off.

Kageyama couldn't survive another hit. Shoving his throttle forwards, Shouyou shot towards him, raising the armoured shield attached to his left arm even while he kept firing.

At the last moment, Shouyou twisted his suit around to brace himself as he slammed into Kageyama's Conductor. The impact threw them both out of the line of fire as another barrage of particle beams converged right where Kageyama had been. A second later and he would have been too late.

Shouyou had put himself between Kageyama and the enemy, however, so he was the one to take the brunt of the stray shots. A shower of sparks erupted from his console and the entire left side of his display winked out only to glow red, baking him; he screamed in pain as shards of metal shrapnel scythed through the cockpit, tearing into him.

But he'd survived. And so had his Avenger: it was blind on the left and had lost both its shield, the arm that held it, and most of its left leg, but he still had his gun and he could still move. He could still fight!

Yet this was a fight unlike any he'd ever imagined. At first he wasn't sure who were the good guys and who were the bad guys; his struggling sensors insisted there were two of everyone. He even spotted his own doppelganger, another Avenger labelled 'Karasuno 10', flying off towards the colony. He knew _that_ one at least was safe to shoot at, so he took a couple of potshots at it until it flew out of range.

But the longer he fought, the easier it became to distinguish between friend and foe. The enemy mobile suits twisted and jerked in space like they were being pulled by wires, performing inertia-defying manoeuvres that should have turned their pilots into pancakes. Even crippled as he was, even without targeting data from a Conductor, he ought to have been able to land more shots, but the crazy moves they were pulling made it almost impossible. Shouyou had to resort to brute force, getting as close as he dared and simply firing shot after shot in the hopes that one would hit.

People were talking over the comms, panicking mostly, but Shouyou was too busy trying to shoot the enemy and cover Kageyama to pay much attention. It looked like they'd moved on to other targets, leaving Kageyama alone, but unless he could get his Conductor working again, Kageyama was a sitting duck.

It was only when he heard Kenma's voice that he started listening.

" _We need to regroup!"_ Kenma said urgently; it was the first time Shouyou had ever heard him raise his voice. " _Any Defenders that can hear me, drop smoke and chaff now! Everyone left in the forward screen, pull back through the smoke to join up with me and the Bombardiers!"_

Clouds of smoke erupted, along with sprays of glittering silver chaff, and several nearby mobile suits fled towards it. He even spotted Noya towing Azumane along, though he didn't realise Azumane had been hit. Shouyou hesitated, wondering if he would have to do the same for Kageyama; he didn't even know whether Kageyama's comms were even still working. He hit the thrusters and darted closer, intending to make direct contact or drag Kageyama out of there, but then the Conductor's thrusters flared to life. Kageyama must have got it working again because his suit turned sluggishly to follow everyone else.

The smoke provided a brief moment of respite, though flashes of particle rifle fire lit it up with deep amber glows, like bolts of fiery lightning in a thundercloud. Shouyou emerged on the other side and immediately checked to make sure Kageyama was still with him; only then did he look around to get his bearings.

Up ahead was a cluster of mobile suits that his sensors hesitantly identified as friendly. It included Kenma, the Bombardiers, and what was left of the forward screen. Kuroo's Guardian was crippled and motionless, with Yaku heading over to cover him, and several other suits were heavily damaged — some missing heads or limbs. They were all falling back towards the colony, flying slowly so that the damaged suits could keep up.

Beyond, bright thruster trails marked more mobile suits heading in Miyagi's direction, maybe ten or eleven of them. Shouyou's sensors identified them as Karasuno, and his heart wrenched when he saw labels for 'Karasuno 1' and 'Karasuno 2' amongst them — Sawamura and Suga. It felt as though the enemy were taunting them, mocking their losses, and it made Shouyou indescribably angry. The cruisers were moving to block their path and the reserve force was coming up to meet them too, so hopefully the fake Karasuno suits wouldn't get far.

Vivid beams of fire seared past him, warning him of more immediate problems, and he glanced back to see the rest of the enemy force curving around the smoke cloud. This bunch were marked as Nekoma, ten of them.

" _They're focusing on me,"_ Kenma said, harried and apprehensive. " _Defenders, please provide cover!"_

As Shouyou did his best to dodge the few incoming shots that came his way, he activated his radio, hoping Kageyama's was still working. "Kageyama, can you hear me? Are you alright?"

He was answered by a squeal of static and an angry grunt. " _I can't believe that stunt you pulled. Of all the stupid —_ "

It was Kageyama's voice — rough and a little groggy, and distorted by the interference, but if he was complaining he couldn't be that badly hurt.

Shouyou whirled around, wincing as the g-forces caused a dazzling wave of pain to tear through him. "You can thank me later," he gasped, in no mood to put up with Kageyama's grouchiness right now. "We need to use the Quickshot."

A pause. "I still have a target painter left, but —"

Shouyou needed no further encouragement. "Then let's go!"

He spun around and blasted over towards the fake Nekoma team at full speed, or at least the best speed he was capable of; even with the damage his suit had taken, the acceleration was still hard enough to make Shouyou dizzy. Or maybe he was hurt worse than he thought, but he shoved that thought to the back of his mind and focused on his remaining displays. Kageyama was following; he hadn't re-established a full tactical network, but he did manage to form a one-to-one link with Shouyou's Avenger.

They were both in poor shape, Shouyou could tell. His displays were fuzzy and the controls were sluggish, and the highlighted data being sent over from Kageyama's Conductor kept flickering.

But it was enough for the Quickshot.

The first target Kageyama lit up was Nekoma 11. Even though he knew it was an enemy, that it wasn't really Lev flying that Avenger, Shouyou couldn't help but hesitate for a fraction of a second. By then the Avenger had broken off, jinking back and forth in a sharp zig-zag that he'd never be able to hit.

" _Focus, dumbass!"_

Shouyou cleared his mind, blocking out his fear and confusion and pain. He could do this and he trusted Kageyama to pick the right targets. He'd done it time and time again with Kageyama: _shoom_ , _kablam_ , _shoom, kablam._ The repetition was seared into his nerves, programmed into his muscles: the moment the target began blinking, he brought his rifle to bear and fired, not even waiting for the insistent tone that told him he had a solid lock. No hesitation.

He started to smile as his shot speared the enemy mobile suit, but then the Defender vanished in a massive flash, bright enough to force his panoramic display to darken automatically. He was close enough that his Avenger got caught by the fringe of the explosion, sparking an entire choir of discordant alarms.

" _Don't get too close,_ " Kageyama said. As if Shouyou hadn't figured that out for himself.

"Why do they keep exploding like that?" he replied, quelling the alarms and trying not to worry about how much of his Avenger's status readout was now flashing red.

He knew the Quickshot was accurate, but it wasn't accurate enough to guarantee a reactor detonation every time. One could have been a fluke, but he saw another dazzling flash below him as someone else scored another kill.

Kageyama's answer was typical: " _Does it matter as long as they're dead? Just keep your distance!"_

The argument was interrupted by a frantic squeak of " _Help!"_ from Kenma. Shouyou immediately swung around, searching for him, and saw the problem: even with Noya, Yaku, Tsukishima, and Shibayama all trying to protect him in their Defenders, shots were getting through as the enemy mobile suits swarmed Kenma.

"Kageyam—"

" _I see them. Get ready."_

Swooping in, Shouyou squeezed the trigger the moment a new target lit up, but it was moving so violently that the shot went wide. He swore, blinking stinging sweat out of his eyes, and tried to focus. Kageyama didn't waste time trying to light up the same target again; instead he went for an Avenger that was pummelling Shibayama's I-Field.

"C'mon, c'mon..." Shouyou muttered, firing again, and this time it hit. Shibayama's Defender was a bit too close and ended up getting singed by the explosion, but after a brief wobble he straightened his course and went to intercept someone else.

They managed to nail one more — a comparatively slow-moving Bombardier that had somehow landed a railgun hit on Yaku — before the enemy mobile suits changed targets. The good news was that it relieved the pressure on Kenma; the bad news was that their new target was Shouyou.

His Avenger was missing several thrusters and was handling like a drunken brick, forcing him to wrestle with the controls, but the off-balance thrust made it easy to pull unpredictable moves. He threw his Avenger into an erratic spin, praying they'd miss, but the strain of it dragged a scream of pain out of him; it felt like his leg was being ripped off. Someone — he didn't see who — zipped past, leaving a trail of chaff, and one of the incoming beams fizzled against it right in front of him. It was like staring into a lightning strike aimed at his face, and between the surge of relief and the way his leg was pulsing with hot, fiery agony, he nearly threw up.

" _One more!"_ Kageyama yelled, and through the haze of dizzy nausea, he managed to grab the controls with trembling hands and line up another shot.

Only after it hit did he see what he'd even been shooting at: the enemy Conductor, marked Nekoma 5. His shot didn't kill it, but it did knock out its I-Field, allowing the others to concentrate their fire on it and finish it off.

The difference it made was immediate. The volume of fire aimed at Shouyou quickly dropped off and the pressure on him seemed to lift, like someone had removed a giant rock that had been crushing his ribcage. He gulped down desperate, shaky breaths, swallowing back bile and saliva and what tasted like blood, and looked around to make sure he was clear of threats.

Some of the fake Nekoma suits remained, but they had no Conductors left and seemed just as confused without them as Shouyou had been. They continued to fight back like cornered animals, faster and more aggressive than any pilots he'd ever encountered, but they were outnumbered now and one by one they were all picked off.

Only then did Shouyou take a moment to check himself over, and his eyes went wide at the sight of cuts all over his left side. The worst was a huge gash in his thigh, streaming red globs that stuck to the seat, the underside of the controls, and his other leg. As if seeing it made it real, the shocking pain of it crashed into him all at once. Panting and trying not to disturb his leg, he scrabbled around for the first aid kit attached to the side of the seat and tore it open. He could barely keep his hand steady as he sprayed antiseptic sealant foam over every wound he could reach, numbing them and forming a makeshift seal over the rips in his pilot suit.

People were talking, a confused tangle of frightened, panicked voices; they sounded tinny and distorted, like kids speaking through cups joined by string. He looked up at his malfunctioning displays to see what all the fuss was about.

It was Miyagi.

Even at this distance, he could see fireballs erupting as mobile suits bombarded the colony, tearing huge rents into its side. It looked like the enormous cylinder had sprung a dozen leaks, gaping holes venting gas and debris — bleeding precious air and life. The reserve force — Ennoshita and the others — were already down, and although the two cruisers had moved in close to try to form a physical barrier in front of the colony, they were big, slow targets facing way too many opponents. They did their best, spraying shots from their turrets and missile launchers, but they were like elephants trying to swat flies; the agile enemy mobile suits simply danced around them, ripping chunks of out the ships in retaliation.

"We've got to go help!" Shouyou said, hoping that Kageyama at least would hear him; he'd already slammed the throttle forward, accelerating toward the colony, when Kenma responded instead.

" _Anyone who can still fight_ ," he said, his voice shaky with fear and exhaustion, " _link up with me. Anyone who can't, collect the survivors and follow behind. Stay together — it's our only chance._ "

" _I can help too_ ," Kageyama added. " _I can't link but I can still coordinate through Kozume's systems._ "

Shouyou slowed down to keep pace with the others, but now his right leg was jiggling with impatience (his left refused to move properly) and he kept clenching his fist beside the firing controls. They were taking too long! Every minute counted, every second meant more lives lost...  "Kageyama, we can go on ahead. If we use the Quickshot —"

" _No_ ," Kageyama replied firmly. " _Kozume's right, it's safer if we stay together._ "

"But if we go on ahead, we can make a difference!" Shouyou yelled. Kageyama _had_ to listen. He had to! The two of them were the only ones who could do it, the only two who might be able to save all those innocent people on the colony. "The Quickshot is the only hope we've got of stopping them in time!"

A hiss of static blared through his helmet, making Shouyou wince, and then another voice cut in. " _—tick together! That is a fucking order!_ "

Kenma's gasp of relief was clearly audible.  " _Kuro! You're alright?_ "

" _Fried pretty good, but I'm in one piece. Well, I am. My suit isn't. But there's no time to chat — we've got a job to do._ "

Shouyou activated his mic again. "Please, Commander, let me and Kageyama go —"

" _Hinata, so help me, if you break formation I will shoot out your thrusters myself_ ," Kuroo snapped.

At which point yet more alarms began beeping inside Shouyou's cockpit. "What now?" he whined.

" _Oh hell, please, no..._ " Yamaguchi said, not much louder than a whisper. " _Tell me I'm seeing things._ "

Then Shouyou saw them too: enemy reinforcements, two whole battleships already launching mobile suits. His blood froze in his veins, his heart stuttered, and his mind went blank. "What do we do?" he asked, hating the way his voice had suddenly started warbling.

For a long moment, nobody responded.

They were caught between a hammer and anvil, except the anvil was already busy shooting up a colony full of innocent people and the hammer was actually more like twenty hammers all armed with particle cannons.

" _We do whatever we can_ ," Yamamoto said firmly. " _Right?_ "

There was no response.

The choice was about to be made for them anyway, since they'd already been heading towards the firefight outside the colony and they hadn't changed course or speed. Kenma was already allocating targets, flashing up on Shouyou's flickering display, but there were so many of them left... They streaked across the giant cylinder of Miyagi colony like angry fireflies, leaving a trail of fiery destruction in their wake. Shouyou was close enough now that he could see the jagged metal of the breaches in the colony walls, venting air and smoke and small specks that could be trees, cars, or even people.

He knew exactly what the terrified people of Miyagi must be feeling right then, huddling together in shelters as their whole world literally shook around them, helpless to do anything but wait and hope someone came to save them before a particle beam lanced through the floor and sent them all spilling out into vacuum. But this time he was on the other side of it; he _was_ that someone who could save them, maybe even the only one who could, and he wasn't just going to wait patiently for Kenma to tell him who to shoot.

"KageYAMA!" he shouted, abandoning the formation and curving away towards a trio of enemy mobile suits busy blasting away at the colony. "Light them up!"

Shouyou started firing anyway as he dived towards the colony, angling so he could shoot at them without risking hitting the colony himself. It caught their attention and two of them abandoned their assault on the colony in favour of targeting him, forcing him to evade. He juked back and forth, shaking himself so badly that his vision went blurry and he worried about giving himself a concussion. His knew he aim wasn't good enough on his own to take them out — they just moved too fucking fast, _unbelievably_ fast — but he fired back anyway, waiting, hoping...

A bright yellow square bracketed the closest enemy, Kageyama's target painter lighting it up, and without thinking, he locked on and fired in a single smooth movement. It blossomed into a tiny sun, incinerating a section of colony hull the size of a city block, and Shouyou let go of his controls in shock.

"Oh my god..."

" _Stop, stop!"_ Kuroo bellowed. " _Don't hit the ones so close to the colony..."_

Unable to drag his gaze away from the terrible hole — the hole _he'd_ caused — Shouyou ignored the fight going on around him, blocking out any sound except his own ragged breathing, and flew up to the twisted, melted edges of the breach. Fumbling with the controls, he dropped his rifle and activated the sealant dispenser on his Avenger's remaining hand, but he knew it was futile. The hole was too big and the hurricane of air rushing through it simply blew the sealant out into space.

Angrily, he grabbed his gun again and turned back towards the fight, itching for revenge, to make the murderers _suffer_ —

...only to find them turning tail and flying straight past the surviving defenders in full retreat. What the hell?

" _Looks like they're joining up with the other Loyalists_ ," Kenma realised, letting out a sigh of relief.

" _But... the_ Nekoma..." Kuroo said, with a broken, plaintive sob. " _It's gone._ "

The ship was on his blind side, so Shouyou had to twist his whole suit to see, and when it came into view his breath caught in his throat. The _Nekoma_ was in its death throes, secondary explosions tearing it apart from within even as a final scattering of escape pods burst away from it.

" _All pilots_ ," Captain Ukai said grimly, " _collect any survivors and return to the_ Karasuno _. We're —_ " He hesitated, clearing his throat, and when he continued there was a rough edge to his voice. " _We're leaving._ "

 

* * *

 

The sheer carnage of the battlefield before them was shocking. _Sickening_. Tooru pushed his thruster controls harder and harder until he worried they might simply snap, all in the vain hope that he could get there one second faster to put an end to this atrocity.

He didn't know how Irihata had got wind of the attack and right then he didn't particularly care. All he knew was that the _Karasuno_ had finally been located and was reported to be attacking a helpless colony. Admittedly, as he climbed into the cockpit of his Monarch and warmed up the suit's systems, part of his mind puzzled over why the _Karasuno_ might be attacking a civilian target when refusing to do that was exactly the reason they'd chosen to go renegade in the first place, but a lot could change in three weeks, especially in the middle of a civil war.

Any doubt in his mind had been erased the moment he launched and the _Aobajohsai_ 's long range sensors showed them all what was going on.

It looked like a second cruiser had been defending the colony, trying to protect it from the onslaught, but they'd been overwhelmed; even as Tooru's mobile suit team shot forwards at maximum acceleration, he could see explosions wrack the unlucky cruiser as it got pummelled mercilessly. Judging by the debris scattered around the area, as well as the dissipating remains of smoke screens and chaff clouds, they had put up a good fight, but not enough to avert the massacre that was taking place.

Because there was no other word for it. Mobile suits were blasting holes in the colony: nothing short of brutal, senseless murder.

He toggled his comms, broadcasting to both teams. As the senior team leader, he was in overall command of both mobile suit teams — a fact that Moniwa had actually looked relieved about — but right at that moment, if he'd had the authority, he would have equipped every last man and woman aboard both cruisers with a gun and a space suit and pushed them out of the airlock to do battle.

"This is Oikawa," he said, letting some of the pulsing rage burning through his arteries bleed into his voice. "You can see what's going on. There is no moral ambiguity here. We will hunt down every last one of these psychotic bastards and we will show them no mercy, is that understood?" He waited for the chorus of responses — each tight with the same righteous anger he felt — to trail off before continuing. "No holding back. No doubts. We get in there and we try to save as many of Miyagi's people as we can. Out."

There was no need for any further instruction than that. They'd trained for this. Specifically, in fact: they knew Karasuno, they'd fought them again and again in simulation after simulation, even developed special tactics for use against them... though none of them had ever envisaged a scenario as horrific as this one.

Besides, with a bit of luck, Karasuno would already have taken losses. Judging by the particle beams flickering in the distance, at least some of the defenders were still alive, and unless they were completely incompetent, they must have taken out some of Karasuno's mobile suits in exchange. 

Studying his sensors keenly, Tooru formulated his approach, trying to decide how best to tackle the remaining combatants. He'd have to deal with the ones attacking the colony first, even if it exposed his own team to greater risk, and then they could mop up the rest and deal with the cruiser. Perhaps he could even coordinate with the defenders, assuming they still had a command structure in place. He flinched, shielding his eyes for a moment when a bright flash erupted near the colony — were these bastards even using _nukes_ against them?

But as he flew closer, pressed hard against his harness by the acceleration, Tooru couldn't help but frown.

Something didn't quite add up here.

A note of caution sluiced through his rage like someone pouring cold water over his head. Was it some kind of bizarre trap? He was just about close enough for the powerful sensors of his Monarch to pick out some of the details of the chaos unfolding up ahead. Not even the other three Conductors could match the sensitivity of his Monarch, giving him an important edge against most other mobile suit teams, but he was used to those sensors... making sense.

As unbelievable as it seemed, Karasuno appeared to be fighting amongst themselves.

The _Karasuno_ herself had taken considerable damage and was limping away from the battle, more or less directly away from the approach of the _Aobajohsai_ and the _Dateko,_ but what feeble volume of fire she could still manage was aimed at her own mobile suits. The other cruiser was the _Nekoma_ ; it was a wonder the ship's identification transponder was even operational at all, because the ship had been torn to shreds. Its weapons had long since fallen silent and its broken hull was venting gas and smoke, bright flares marking secondary explosions. It was out of the fight and barely more than floating scrap by this point. _Nekoma_ was listed as a Rebel ship, just like the _Karasuno_ , but evidently they'd had some kind of disagreement here.

About a dozen mobile suits were duelling Karasuno's mobile suit team. They were too far to identify visually and their IFF systems were silent, but they had to be from the _Nekoma_. Yet even as he watched, Karasuno — with about eight suits remaining — abandoned their assault on the colony in favour of charging off to intercept Tooru's force. The defenders initially moved to pursue before breaking off to flit about, probably collecting survivors, and then headed towards the sole remaining cruiser. Maybe they wanted to try to kill it before it could escape, and if so he couldn't blame them.

Tooru shook his head. The details didn't matter; he'd already seen enough. All that mattered was to stop Karasuno and prevent any further damage to the colony. If any of the unidentified mobile suits — presumably from Nekoma — were to offer their unconditional surrender, then Tooru might be willing to consider not executing them there and then, but he wasn't going to worry too much about due process given the brutality of the attack on Miyagi.

"All pilots, be aware that some of the defenders are still alive," he said. "Any Nekoma mobile suits are to be considered secondary targets; they're still listed as rebels, but as long as they don't get in our way, focus on Karasuno instead. We can deal with Nekoma afterwards."

" _And if they fire on us first?_ " Iwa asked pointedly.

Tooru smiled grimly. "Then by all means, wipe them out."

And then the fight was on. A brief thrill ran through Tooru as he opened fire with his missiles, launching a volley at the enemy Conductor (hopefully it was Tobio — Tooru would be disappointed if he wasn't the one who got to kill him) before opening up with his railgun. Even as he fired with one hand, his other flitted over the controls, assigning targets to the rest of his squad. The Dateko team was up front, taking the brunt of a surprisingly coordinated strike on Moniwa and Dateko's second Conductor, Koganegawa, but the Iron Wall held and Aobajohsai swept forwards to get their revenge. As Iwa and the rest of his Avengers charged ahead, tearing into the enemy formation, Tooru tried to line up a railgun shot at the enemy Conductor.

He missed.

In fact, everyone was missing. Karasuno was in a frenzy, their suits firing unerringly accurate shots that even Dateko's skilled Defenders were struggling to intercept, while evading so violently in return that barely any shots were landing at all.

This was not like the Karasuno they'd faced at Okinawa; it was like facing opponents an order of magnitude more skilled.

"Work together," Tooru said, reallocating targets to try to focus on just one or two of the enemy at once. "Stay out of each other's line of fire and take them down one at a time."

It was risky, letting most of the enemy team run rampant while they tackled just a couple of them, but the enemy's tactics hadn't changed — they remained obsessed with trying to kill Moniwa, for some reason — and Tooru had deployed his Defenders accordingly.

Iwa was the first to kill one of them. Tooru flinched back in surprise as Iwa's target — one of the enemy Avengers — was obliterated by a reactor detonation.

"Are you okay, Iwa?" he asked, his eyes already dropping to the familiar place on the status panel.

" _I'm fine_ ," Iwa snapped back, confirming what the status panel showed — only minor damage. " _Focus on the enemy, not me._ "

Tooru kept his attention on the enemy Conductor, trying to line up another railgun shot. It was difficult — even as bulky as Conductors were, this one was particularly agile — but the moment it changed course, he squeezed the trigger and sent a high-velocity slug ripping through it.

His triumphant grin fell when the Conductor annihilated itself with yet another reactor explosion; it was so bright he had to shield his eyes from the dazzling glare before his visual display could automatically compensate.

" _Are they... are they_ self-destructing?" Yahaba asked, bewildered and more than a little appalled.

It did seem that way. Rather than risk being taken alive, Karasuno were apparently willing to self-destruct. Had they all gone mad?! Or had they become such fanatics that they were willing to die if it meant taking Loyalists with them?

" _Saves us the bother of executing them later if we happen to capture any survivors,_ " Kamasaki growled, and privately Tooru agreed.

"Keep your distance!" he instructed, already redeploying his team accordingly. "Avengers, fall back — let the Bombardiers finish them off."

Rather than risk any of his Avengers or Defenders, which had to get closer, Tooru chose to employ the long-range firepower of the Bombardiers to mop up the rest of Karasuno. It didn't take as long as he feared: they'd already sustained damage, and without their Conductor, they were markedly less disciplined. Next to fall were the enemy Defenders, and without their point defences and interception capabilities, the others were a lot more vulnerable to missile strikes. Tooru and the Bombardiers opened up at once, their missiles streaking towards the rest of the Karasuno mobile suits; some were able to dodge at first, but the manually-guided missiles homed in on them tenaciously. With missiles chasing them and particle blasts and railgun shots raining down upon them, Karasuno fell one by one.

Yet every single one of them died in the atomic fire of a reactor explosion, lighting up the emptiness of space like dying stars.

Tooru wanted to exult in victory, but he still had a job to do. "Nice work everybody," he said, quickly skimming the status display. A few mobile suits had taken some heavy damage, and both Moniwa and Koganegawa had been forced to eject, but their rescue beacons were lit and their life signs were strong. He sent a request to the _Dateko_ for a search & rescue shuttle to pick them up and turned his attention back to Miyagi colony.

"Dammit," he muttered.

The _Karasuno_ was on the very edge of sensor range and fleeing fast. With the path cleared of enemy mobile suits, the _Aobajohsai_ and _Dateko_ were moving towards the colony, but they were too slow to make up the _Karasuno_ 's head start. At least the colony was no longer under attack, but it had obviously sustained very heavy damage — huge ruptures had been torn into its hull, enough to depressurise the cylinder in hours if not minutes, and one of the solar panels had been so badly hit that it had ripped itself away under the centrifugal forces.

After separating out the mobile suits too damaged to give chase, which he ordered back to their motherships, he cleared his voice and activated the comm. "Let's make sure the _Karasuno_ doesn't get away, shall we?" he said, already firing up his thrusters.

A chorus of agreement came back and Tooru indulged in a predatory smile as the mobile suits sped towards Miyagi and the fleeing rebels beyond.

But as he approached the colony, the comm crackled to life again. The voice was garbled by Minovsky interference but Tooru could still make out the words. " _...ease, request all available assistance! Repeat, this is Miyagi Colony calling anyone in range — please, we need help! The Governor is dead, life support is critical... our emergency services are crippled..._ "

Tooru glanced at his sensors. They were closing on the damaged _Karasuno,_ and could catch up to it in a few minutes, but it still had some teeth remaining and might even have some mobile suits left aboard. Victory was assured, but it would take time, and meanwhile his sensors showed atmosphere and smoke streaming from the grievously wounded colony, punctured in dozens of places and scarred in many more. It reminded him of an ancient airship, trailing flames as it plummeted to the ground.

Mobile suits were combat units first and foremost, but they were also capable of rescue operations. One finger on each hand served as a fire extinguisher and a second as a nozzle for emergency sealant, the bubblegum-like goop that could be sprayed over a hull breach to seal in air. Their strength and dexterity also made them extremely useful in digging out trapped or buried survivors.

He gritted his teeth and growled. He _dearly_ wanted to exact revenge on Karasuno and had no wish to see his elusive foe slip away once again, but every second he wasted meant that hundreds or even thousands more people might perish. If the atmosphere drained completely, then rescue would be even more difficult.

Establishing a laser lock with the _Aobajohsai_ , he reluctantly opened a channel to Captain Irihata. " _Aobajohsai_ , this is Oikawa," he said. "The colony is requesting emergency rescue support. I'm detaching most of my force to assist; suggest you send whatever aid you can as well. I will continue pursuit with a small force. We will harass and shadow the _Karasuno_ to try to determine its heading. Over."

It took a moment for Irihata to reply. " _Understood, Oikawa,_ " he said heavily. " _Do what you can. Aobajohsai out_."

Tooru sighed. "Iwa, Makki, Mattsun, you're with me. Everyone else, head to the colony to begin rescue operations."

" _Are you fucking kidding me?_ " Kamasaki said. " _We're so close to wiping out those bastards and you want us to stop and plug holes?!_ "

"I expect you to carry out your orders," Tooru replied icily. "Yahaba, you're in charge of the detached Aobajohsai team. Kamasaki, you handle Dateko. Focus on sealing the breaches first. Out."

Kamasaki snarled in frustration but he didn't argue further, and on his sensor display Tooru could see the rest of the mobile suits peel away to help. Only the four of them continued on, closing on the enemy cruiser.

" _What's your plan?_ " Iwa asked quietly.

"Makki and I will hit them with missiles," he said. "Maybe we'll get lucky and hit their engines. But we won't get too close."

" _If you say so_ ," Makki replied dubiously.

By now the _Karasuno_ had built up quite a lot of speed and it took nearly five minutes for Tooru's small group to catch up. He and Makki emptied their missile magazines in a single, combined volley, a dozen heavy missiles streaking forwards towards the enemy cruiser's rear, but the _Karasuno_ was ready for them: it sprayed a cloud of countermeasures to confuse the missiles and then its point defence guns opened up. Two Defenders, both anchored to the ship by the magnetic grapples in their feet, added their own fire as well. Only two missiles hit and neither appeared to do any significant damage.

In response, the cruiser began launching its own missiles and additional mobile suits.

Mattsun flew slightly ahead to intercept the missiles, but there was a larger volley than expected — some enemy Bombardiers must have survived and added their own to the mix — and he struggled to catch them all. One hit Makki, the explosion tossing his Bombardier sideways like a doll, and Iwa was nearly caught in the detonation of another. Long range particle beams and railgun shots streaked their way as well.

"Fall back under smoke!" Tooru ordered, and Mattsun's Defender immediately launched a cluster of smoke bombs, carpeting the area in a dense cloud of smoke. He flew over to where he'd last seen Makki, nearly bumping into him given the poor visibility, and pulled him back.

" _I'm okay,_ " Makki replied, coughing. " _Just shaken up._ "

The status report his suit was sending to Tooru's Monarch disagreed. "Head back to the ship," he ordered. "We won't fight — we'll just trail them."

" _I can still —_ "

"Go, Makki!"

When the smoke finally dissipated, the _Karasuno_ had pulled further ahead, out of firing range. It was evidently not in the mood for further fighting, because the mobile suits it had launched were not giving chase.

Tooru checked his fuel gauge; it was at three quarters. They had maybe fifteen minutes at their current acceleration before they'd have to turn back.

" _We could chase until we're empty,_ " Iwa suggested darkly; he must have been thinking the same thing.

"No, Iwa," Tooru replied, sighing. The _Aobajohsai_ could probably find them eventually, but it would have to leave the colony to do so. Besides, without fuel they were sitting ducks if the _Karasuno_ wanted to attack them. "We'll follow at a safe distance and track them as far as we can."

" _At least we got their mobile suits,_ " Mattsun said. " _That's something, right?_ "

Tooru thought back to the carnage he'd witnessed when they'd first arrived, with the Karasuno mobile suits tearing into Miyagi, Nekoma, and even their own cruiser. "It's something," he said, low and venomous. "But not nearly enough."

He would pursue Karasuno to the edge of the galaxy if that's what it took to bring them to justice.

 

END OF PART ONE

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry! 
> 
> On the bright side, this is probably the lowest point of the story, so it won't always be this grim. And if you've got this far, thanks for sticking with me! There's still plenty more fun ahead.


	15. Interlude - Intelligence Report #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To soften the blow of the last chapter (again, I'm so sorry!) and to serve as a breakpoint between Parts 1 and 2 of the story, here is an interlude chapter. I thought it might be a nice to include some technical and background information on the setting of the story, especially given how many names, technologies, and places get mentioned all the time. It's presented as part of an in-universe intelligence report on the battle.
> 
> Note that there's nothing critical to the story in this chapter, so if it looks boring, feel free to skip it -- the first chapter of Part 2 will be along shortly and you won't miss anything important in the meantime. But for those who have a burning desire to see some pictures and read a bunch of pseudo-military jargon about space robots, enjoy!

 

 

[ ](https://gundam.fandom.com/wiki/Earth_Federation_Forces?file=Logo_efsf.png)

TOP SECRET

REF/MIYAGI INCIDENT/UC0096-06-24//

MSGID/INTREP/EFSF-ONI/UC0096-06-25//

SUMMARY OF INITIAL INVESTIGATION INTO THE 'MIYAGI MASSACRE'//

SOURCE/EFSF OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE/009606251000Z/A1//

* * *

### Appendix 1: Location information

Miyagi Colony is part of Cluster 9, Side 4 (aka Moore), situated at the L1 Lagrange Point. 

  * Construction began UC0036, completed UC0043.
  * Population 3,531,231.
  * Governor: Ikkei Ukai.
  * Prior to the battle, Miyagi was listed as a rebel-aligned colony and had rejected imposition of Directive 96-06/41B (declaration of martial law).



* * *

### Appendix 2: Parties participating in combat incident

According to initial reports from loyalist units in attendance, SIGINT, and the SPASUS deep-space monitoring network, four warships were present at the battle: the mobile suit carriers NEKOMA (SCV-13) and KARASUNO (SCV-10), both rebel-aligned, and the battleships AOBAJOHSAI (SBB-36) and DATEKO (SBB-33).

Information regarding these units is provided below.

#### KARASUNO (SCV-10)

EFSF-HQ/KILIMANJARO lost contact with KARASUNO (SCV-10) at 1120Z on UC0096-06-01. KARASUNO was undergoing refit at Hawkins & Willard Ltd Shipyard at Phoenix Colony, Side 7. Subsequent to issue of Directive 96-06/41B, KARASUNO failed to confirm receipt and forced its way out of the dockyard. It then proceeded to depart at high speed. AOBAJOHSAI gave chase and a brief skirmish ensued. Moderate damage to mobile suits on both sides was sustained but the outcome was inconclusive. KARASUNO was next detected by SPASUS in the vicinity of Side 5 on UC0096-06-07. Other colonies at Side 5 along with nearby units report high Minovsky density and observation of possible exchange of fire at Miyagi on UC0096-06-08, with KARASUNO likely to be involved. No further sightings of KARASUNO until the Miyagi incident.

KARASUNO CO is CAPT Keishin Ukai, grandson of Governor Ikkei Keishin of Miyagi Colony. It is likely that this is the reason KARASUNO chose to hide at Miyagi. Until failure to confirm 96-06/41B CAPT Ukai and KARASUNO had a solid record. Under its previous CO, then-CDRE Ikkei Keishin, KARASUNO won a series of battle honours during the Gryps Conflict and First Neo Zeon War, culminating in the 3rd Battle of Granada in UC0088-11, when her task force defeated a Neo Zeon fleet. Since then, KARASUNO has had a more undistinguished career, though it was present at the Battle of Axis in UC0093. As the last of the Argama class to undergo mid-life extension refit, the ship was suffering equipment failures with increased frequency and as such was due to undertake a six month refit from UC0096-05 to UC0096-11 at Phoenix Colony, Side 7. The refit was incomplete when she departed.

As a major unit, KARASUNO received a full complement of twelve new RHQ-series mobile suits in UC0095-12.

_Karasuno Mobile Suit Team_ Position  | Forename  | Surname  | Age  | Rank  | Mobile Suit   
---|---|---|---|---|---  
1 | Daichi | Sawamura | 25 | Lieutenant Commander | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
2 | Koushi | Sugamura | 26 | Lieutenant | RHQ-95/C Conductor  
3 | Asahi | Azumane | 25 | Lieutenant | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
4 | Yuu | Nishinoya | 24 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/D Defender  
5 | Ryuunosuke | Tanaka | 23 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
6 | Chikara | Ennoshita | 24 | Lieutenant | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
7 | Hisashi | Kinoshita | 23 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/B Bombardier  
8 | Kazuhito | Narita | 23 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
9 | Tobio | Kageyama | 21 | Ensign | RHQ-95/C Conductor  
10 | Shouyou | Hinata | 22 | Ensign | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
11 | Kei | Tsukishima | 21 | Ensign | RHQ-95/D Defender  
12 | Tadashi | Yamaguchi | 21 | Ensign | RHQ-95/B Bombardier  
  
* * *

#### NEKOMA (SCV-13)

EFSF-HQ/KILIMANJARO lost contact with NEKOMA (SCV-13) at 0915Z on UC0096-06-02 after NEKOMA failed to confirm receipt of Directive 96-06/41B. NEKOMA was on patrol near Side 5 and is understood to have made its way directly to Miyagi Colony at this time. There were no subsequent sightings of NEKOMA until the Miyagi incident three weeks later.

NEKOMA CO is CDRE Yasufumi Nekomata, a veteran of the Battle of Loum during the One Year War and long-time colleague of Governor Ikkei Keishin of Miyagi Colony. NEKOMA was widely regarded as a first-class unit until failure to confirm 96-06/41B, serving with Londo Bell against Neo Zeon during the Second Neo Zeon War. She also served with distinction during the First Neo Zeon War in UC0088-0089, under the same CO. During this time she pursued an elusive enemy task force for 3 weeks before finally cornering them with a pincer movement and destroying them. NEKOMA underwent major mid-life extension refit at Luna II in UC0094, after the war, receiving new main cannons and improved electronics.

As a major unit, NEKOMA received a full complement of twelve new RHQ-series mobile suits in UC0095-10. LT CDR Tetsurou Kuroo, team CO, received a prototype RHQ-95/G 'Guardian', designed for hybrid close-in defence/long-range fire support duties.

_Nekoma Mobile Suit Team_ Position  | Forename  | Surname  | Age  | Rank  | Mobile Suit   
---|---|---|---|---|---  
1 | Tetsurou | Kuroo | 25 | Lieutenant Commander | RHQ-95/G Guardian  
2 | Nobuyuki | Kai | 26 | Lieutenant | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
3 | Morisuke | Yaku | 25 | Lieutenant | RHQ-95/D Defender  
4 | Taketora | Yamamoto | 23 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
5 | Kenma | Kozume | 24 | Lieutenant | RHQ-95/C Conductor  
6 | Shouhei | Fukunaga | 24 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
7 | Sou | Inuoka | 21 | Ensign | RHQ-95/D Defender  
8 | Shinji | Mimura | 23 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/B Bombardier  
9 | Tamahiko | Teshiro | 21 | Ensign | RHQ-95/C Conductor  
10 | Hiroki | Sugimura | 22 | Ensign | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
11 | Lev | Haiba | 21 | Ensign | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
12 | Yuuki | Shibayama | 21 | Ensign | RHQ-95/D Defender  
  
* * *

#### AOBAJOHSAI (SBB-36)

AOBAJOHSAI (SBB-36) was undergoing minor repairs at the Hawkins & Willard Ltd Shipyard at Phoenix Colony, Side 7, on UC0096-06-01. AOBAJOHSAI confirmed receipt of Directive 96-06/41B. Upon the unauthorised departure of KARASUNO, AOBAJOHSAI was asked by local administrators to intervene and gave chase. As new rules of engagement (ROE) had not yet been established, AOBAJOHSAI chose not to use lethal force and KARASUNO escaped. AOBAJOHSAI returned to Phoenix Colony to complete repairs. On UC0096-06-03, AOBAJOHSAI was appointed flagship of TF129.3 with orders to locate and subdue known rebel units, including the KARASUNO. AOBAJOHSAI rendezvoused with DATEKO at Jamaica Colony, Side 5, and received orders to patrol the L4 region. During a training exercise on UC0096-06-13, AOBAJOHSAI captured TOKONAMI (SCL-187) near Side 5. On UC0096-06-21, AOBAJOHSAI received orders to proceed to Miyagi Colony in company with DATEKO.

AOBAJOHSAI CO is CAPT Nobuteru Irihata, a distinguished officer with a record stretching back to the One Year War. AOBAJOHSAI's first major engagement was the Battle of Axis during the Second Neo Zeon War in UC0093. Ship and crew excelled but AOBAJOHSAI sustained heavy damage during a duel with a Neo Zeon Rewloola-class vessel. Subsequently AOBAJOHSAI underwent repair and refit at the fleet yards at Londenion, Side 1. In UC0094 AOBAJOHSAI formed part of the 2nd Fleet based at Luna II.

AOBAJOHSAI's mobile suit team is considered an elite team and was prioritised for a full complement of 12 RHQ-series units in UC0095. LT CDR Tooru Oikawa was assigned a prototype RHQ-95/M 'Monarch' unit designed for hybrid combat coordination/long-range fire support duties.

_Aobajohsai Mobile Suit Team_ Position  | Forename  | Surname  | Age  | Rank  | Mobile Suit   
---|---|---|---|---|---  
1 | Tooru | Oikawa | 26 | Lieutenant Commander | RHQ-95/M Monarch  
2 | Issei | Matsukawa | 26 | Lieutenant | RHQ-95/D Defender  
3 | Takahiro | Hanamaki | 26 | Lieutenant | RHQ-95/B Bombardier  
4 | Hajime | Iwaizumi | 27 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
5 | Kaneo | Yuda | 25 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/B Bombardier  
6 | Shigeru | Yahaba | 23 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/C Conductor  
7 | Shinji | Watari | 24 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/D Defender  
8 | Motomu | Sawauchi | 26 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
9 | Heisuke | Shido | 25 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/B Bombardier  
10 | Kentarou | Kyoutani | 23 | Ensign | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
11 | Akira | Kunimi | 21 | Ensign | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
12 | Yuutarou | Kindaichi | 21 | Ensign | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
  
* * *

#### DATEKO (SBB-33)

DATEKO (SBB-33) was on patrol near Luna II on UC0096-06-01. DATEKO confirmed receipt of Directive 96-06/41B and was ordered to locate and pursue WAKUTANI (SCA-51), which failed to confirm receipt of 96-06/41B and was known to be in the area. The hunt for WAKUTANI was superseded when DAKETO was ordered to join AOBAJOHSAI as part of TF129.3 on UC0096-06-03. DATEKO proceeded to rendezvous with AOBAJOHSAI at Jamaica Colony, Side 5, to patrol the L4 region. During a training exercise on UC0096-06-13, DATEKO was involved in the capture of TOKONAMI (SCL-187) near Side 5. On UC0096-06-21, DATEKO received orders to proceed to Miyagi Colony in company with AOBAJOHSAI.

DATEKO CO is CAPT Takurou Oiwake. Oikwake was an ex-Titans officer who joined the AEUG soon after the Gryps Conflict began. DATEKO served with distinction during the First Neo Zeon War in UC0088-0089, most notably being responsible for single-handedly repelling a diversionary attack on Side 6 in UC0089-12. DATEKO was undergoing refit in early UC0093 and so was unable to participate in the Second Neo Zeon War.

DATEKO received a full complement of twelve new RHQ-series mobile suits in UC0096-01.

_Dateko Mobile Suit Team_ Position  | Forename  | Surname  | Age  | Rank  | Mobile Suit   
---|---|---|---|---|---  
1 | Kaname | Moniwa | 25 | Lieutenant Commander | RHQ-95/C Conductor  
2 | Yasushi | Kamasaki | 25 | Lieutenant | RHQ-95/B Bombardier  
3 | Takahito | Sasaya | 25 | Lieutenant | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
4 | Masahiko | Satou | 25 | Lieutenant | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
5 | Jurou | Hayashi | 24 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/B Bombardier  
6 | Kenji | Futakuchi | 24 | Lieutenant | RHQ-95/B Bombardier  
7 | Takanobu | Aone | 24 | Lieutenant | RHQ-95/D Defender  
8 | Tarou | Onagawa | 23 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
9 | Kanji | Koganegawa | 21 | Ensign | RHQ-95/C Conductor  
10 | Kosuke | Sakunami | 21 | Ensign | RHQ-95/D Defender  
11 | Jingo | Fukiage | 22 | Ensign | RHQ-95/D Defender  
12 | Yutaka | Obara | 23 | Lieutenant Junior Grade | RHQ-95/A Avenger  
  
* * *

### Appendix 3: Mobile Suit Technical Information

The Second Neo Zeon War in UC0093 highlighted deficiencies in the Federation's mainline mobile suit designs. At the time, the EFSF primarily fielded RGM-86R GM-III and RGM-89 Jegan mobile suits. The former predate the Gryps Conflict and have since been relegated to training and garrison duties, while the latter remains in service with some front line units. The Jegan proved to be a successful design, serving as a foundation for many mission-specific variants, but it proved vulnerable to the AMS-119 Geara Doga fielded by Neo Zeon and is at a significant disadvantage when facing more modern opponents like the AMS-129 Geara Zulu.

The RHQ series is a recent development intended to replace the Jegan and serve as the new front-line mobile suit for all major EFSF units. Designed by Innovative Combat Systems Inc (ICS), a subsidiary of the Zubarak Corporation, the RHQ-95 is the first mobile suit designed to operate as part of a direct link with fellow mobile suits as part of a tactical coordination network. This represents a quantum leap forward in capability over older mobile suits, which lack such close coordination capabilities and are forced to operate largely independently during combat. Although other modern mobile suits designs may out-perform the RHQ series on an individual basis, together a team fielding RHQ mobile suits will benefit from performance much greater than the sum of its parts.

The RHQ series features multiple variants all based on a common chassis. This allows easy repair and maintenance across the entire line, avoiding the many problems experienced by mobile suit carriers hosting a heterogeneous complement of many different mobile suit designs. In addition, the RHQ series is compatible with universal interface standards, enabling many components and weapons from earlier mobile suits (such as the Jegan) to be utilised. This builds on experience from operating multiple variants of the Jegan, but designed to work together from the start rather than developing over time as with the Jegan.

There are four primary variants of the RHQ-95 each designed to fulfil one of the four major roles in modern mobile suit combat.

#### RHQ-95/A 'Avenger'

The Avenger is the primary combat suit of the RHQ line. It is the closest in design to traditional mobile suits and is effectively a straightforward evolution of the Jegan. Relatively fast and agile with moderate armour protection, it is an excellent all-round mobile suit. Its primary armament is a particle rifle, like most mobile suits, charged via a connection to its internal Minovsky reactor. It also carries an arm-mounted rocket launcher with a decent payload, though the rockets are only effective at relatively short ranges. Two head-mounted Vulcan cannons provide close-range defensive firepower against small targets, while a pair of beam sabres provide melee capability. Most suits are equipped with an armoured shield for self-protection, though some pilots consider it to be useless and forego it.

Avengers provide the primary offensive firepower of an RHQ mobile suit team but rely on the abilities of the other variants to excel, especially the RHQ-95/C 'Conductor' mobile suits. Conductors provide targeting information and improve spatial awareness; the targeting systems of the Avenger are specially designed to be able to interface with this information.

* * *

#### RHQ-95/B 'Bombardier'

The Bombardier is the long-range specialist of the RHQ line. Designed to provide long-range fire support to the other suits, Bombardiers are equipped with a wide range of weapons for this purpose: heavy railguns provide sniping capability, back-mounted missile launchers provide an active homing attack option, and arm-mounted rocket launchers provide for shorter-range explosive firepower. These rockets can carry different payloads, including smoke and EMP warheads. A beam sabre and twin Vulcan cannons are also carried for close range combat, though the Bombardier is not generally intended to fight at such ranges; the extra weaponry compared to the Avenger adds a lot of mass, reducing mobility significantly.

Bombardiers must usually work closely with the 'Conductor' coordination units to apply their firepower effectively. Conductors can provide guidance for the missiles and targeting data for the railguns; without this, accuracy of the guns is severely hampered, while the missiles would have to be guided in visually by the pilot. The rockets are less powerful but are effective at providing countermeasures against e.g. smoke, chaff, or mines. All of the Bombardier's weaponry is capable of penetrating an I-Field, which is only effective against energy-based weaponry like particle rifles.

* * *

#### RHQ-95/C 'Conductor'

The Conductor is the control tower of an RHQ mobile suit team. Combat experience has shown that pilots find it difficult to maintain good spatial awareness during intense mobile suit combat in space. Since Minovsky particle interference makes it impossible to provide command and control from a mothership without risking the ship's safety by getting too close to enemy mobile suits, ICS's solution was to pack this capability into a mobile suit. The result was the Conductor — a well-protected mobile suit with sophisticated sensors and advanced communication systems.

The role of the Conductor pilot is to keep track of the battle, communicating with fellow pilots to assign targets, pass on calls for help, and provide targeting/guidance data to the other mobile suits (especially Bombardiers). However, the Conductors themselves are vulnerable and not designed to engage in close combat themselves, though they are armed similarly to Avengers. While they need to be up front where they can stay in range of other suits, they are slower and heavier than all the other suits, partly due to their sturdy armour. They also have a heavier reactor than the Avenger or Bombardier suits, which allows them to carry an experimental I-Field generator on one arm, providing some defence against incoming particle fire (at least from one direction). Note that the power demands mean that a Conductor cannot use both its I-Field and its particle rifle at the same time.

Conductors are also equipped with EM jamming systems, further disrupting radio signals in the combat zone, and so carry a set of 6 line-of-sight laser communicators. They use these to maintain communication links with the rest of their team.

* * *

#### RHQ-95/D 'Defender'

As the name suggests, the Defender is intended primarily for defence. It carries a very light offensive loadout, instead packing a variety of defensive countermeasures. Designed mainly to support the Conductor and Bombardier suits, Defenders are highly adept at intercepting missile bombardments and other long range attacks, as well as helping to block particle cannon fire at shorter ranges. Because of this role, they themselves are lightly armoured, relying on their agility and equipment to protect themselves and others.

Defenders carry a range of equipment. For intercepting missiles, they carry short range rockets (which can also be used offensively), an arm-mounted interceptor cannon, and shoulder-mounted auto-targeting point defence turrets. For blocking particle rifle fire, they carry the same I-Field shield generator as the Conductor; powering this is the primary constraint on the suit's design, meaning it sacrifices heavy weaponry and armour in exchange. Finally, Defenders have several multipurpose launchers capable of launching decoys (intended to temporarily fool visual/EM sensors), chaff (to disperse particle blasts), smoke (to obscure vision), and different types of mines. This makes them extremely versatile, even if they are relatively limited in offensive firepower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the teams: there aren't quite enough canon characters to fill out all of the team rosters so I've invented some OCs to fill the gaps. Don't worry, they're purely background characters. You may also notice the age range of the characters has been expanded; this is so that the older characters can plausibly be in charge of a team of military pilots and be veterans of previous wars. Basically, 1st years are mostly 21-22, 2nd years 23-24, and 3rd years 25-26.


	16. Trauma

The _Karasuno_ had been Chikara's home for months now, long enough for it to become familiar and comforting. Long enough for it to feel like home.

Not anymore.

Now it was like a nightmare had twisted reality, transforming familiar into unfamiliar, comforting into disturbing. Entire sections of the ship were blocked off, exposed to vacuum because there hadn't been time to seal all the hull breaches yet. Other areas were blackened and scorched by fire, or crumpled and warped from battle damage. Power fluctuations plagued the gravity blocks, which the engineers had only managed to get spinning again after some emergency work on the flywheel mechanism. The two medical bays were overloaded, flooded with casualties, but all too many people were simply gone. Missing faces he'd never see again.

Chikara doubled over, his free hand on his knee, trying to steady his breathing and choke back his tears. The wound in his side sent out stabbing needles of protest — he was still learning how much he could move without causing any more pain than necessary — but after drawing in a few deep, shuddering breaths while counting to twenty in his head, he felt a little better.

He'd rather be anywhere else right then, but he wasn't. He had a job to do and he simply had to get on with it, no matter how much he simply wished to curl up and hide from the world.

Even in the midst of calamity, the _Karasuno_ was a well-run warship, and its crew were doing their best to carry out their duties and patch up the worst of the battle scars. Ukai was pushing them hard, even after Aobajohsai had given up the chase, but perhaps that was as much to keep everyone busy and occupied. Because the moment they had time to stop and think, they might fall apart.

"Ennoshita?"

Chikara looked up and quickly wiped his face on the sling protecting his injured arm, ashamed that someone had caught him in such a miserable state of self-pity. Even worse, it was Tanaka — the last person he'd want to see him like that. Tanaka was guiding a shaky, whimpering crew member who was cradling her burned arm in front of her; she seemed barely conscious, stumbling along in a daze.

"What happened?" he asked, alarmed.

"We were clearing up after a hull breach down on deck 4. Some of the metal was still hot and she tripped and fell against it," Tanaka explained. "I'm taking her to medbay." He didn't stop, but he did slow down as he looked Chikara over in concern. "You okay? What are you even doing out of medbay? Last time I saw you, you were unconscious with a medic patching up your mangled arm."

His lacerated forearm wasn't so bad really, as long as he didn't knock it into anything; it had been numbed pretty well by analgesic spray. What hurt more were the burns and the deep wound where a piece of shrapnel had pierced his side, just above his hip. As long as he kept still, the painkillers could keep the pain under control, but every movement sent small spikes of discomfort shooting through him.

Not that he was going to burden Tanaka with any of that. "I — yes, I'm okay," Chikara said, managing a weak, wobbly smile. "The medics let me out as long as I promised to take it easy." He hesitated a second before adding, "I need to check on things in the hangar next. When you're done, will you meet me there? If you're not needed elsewhere, I mean. It's just..."

Just what? Just that he was falling apart? That he wanted a friendly face around to rely on?

When would he ever learn to stop trying to take the easy way out?

He shook his head. "Never mind. I can manage."

"I'll be there," Tanaka said anyway. He was in overalls, streaked with soot and oil stains, and looked exhausted, but he hadn't even hesitated. "I'll catch up soon."

Chikara couldn't find it in himself to protest; the flood of relief was too powerful. He managed a jerky nod of thanks and then set off towards the hangar. That meant heading up to the zero-g area of the ship, which meant climbing a ladder since the lift had glitched out and was stuck halfway up the shaft, which meant trying to figure out how to climb 10 decks with one arm in a sling and a penetrating wound in his abdomen. By the time he reached the top, gasping and clutching his side, he was lightheaded with pain and had to stop to catch his breath.

Commander Takeda had tasked him with determining the status of the mobile suits and their pilots, now that everyone had stood down from action stations and all of the surviving mobile suits had returned. Chikara had already received a report from Medbay 1 — the shock of which was what had triggered his mini-breakdown in the corridor — but he still had Medbay 2 and the hangars to check, and he couldn't face Medbay 2 just yet. Not alone, at least.

So he'd decided to tackle the hangars first. Once he could move without feeling like his internal organs were ripping apart, Chikara headed in that direction. It took longer than normal thanks to the damage the ship had sustained, since he had to route around sections that were sealed off, but that was probably for the best as it gave him time to pull himself together. When he finally reached the port hangar, he'd managed to restore his mask of professionalism and detachment — hopefully enough to fool the technicians, at least.

Even so, he was sorely tested when his eyes landed on the battered mobile suits lined up there, freshly mauled by the recent battle. There were a mix of Karasuno suits in black and orange trim and Nekoma in red and white, but they were far from pristine: most were missing parts — even entire limbs and in one case a head — and all were scorched and pitted with the telltale evidence of particle beam hits and missile strikes. Technicians were crawling over them, using the various cranes and pulleys and magnetic clamps to remove damaged parts, cut open armour plating to access the vulnerable systems beneath, or rip out torn conduits and cables to replace them later.

It was like entering an operating theatre for metal giants, arriving in the middle of brutal surgery.

Chief Takinoue caught sight of him standing by the entry airlock and held up a finger to tell him to wait a minute. He was with another technician, their arms deep inside an access hatch on one of Nekoma's Avengers, and they were obviously in the middle of something delicate. Chikara couldn't help but feel like he was interrupting, getting in their way, even if he was only following instructions. Then again, he was pretty sure Takeda had only given him those instructions to give him something do to, since his injuries — though not serious enough to warrant taking up a much-needed bed in medbay — were enough to make him pretty much useless for damage control.

But he didn't want to complain. He'd been lucky, he knew that much. He'd seen the state of some of the others.

Takinoue floated over to join him, having completed whatever task he was doing; the other technician was moving in the opposite direction with some piece of damaged equipment in her arms.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" he asked.

Chikara forced his brain to focus. "Commander Takeda sent me to get a status report," he replied, before glancing past the chief to stare at the mobile suits. "I'm guessing it's not going to be good news."

Takinoue scrubbed a dirty hand through his short blond hair and let out a hiss of frustration. "No offence to you guys," he said, giving Chikara a sympathetic look, "but you really got the shit kicked out of you out there. Under ordinary circumstances I'd ground every mobile suit we have left for at least a week. Makoto — " meaning Chief Shimada, who ran the starboard hangar, "— and most of his team being out of commission doesn't help either."

Wincing, Chikara glanced back at the giant, mobile suit-sized door that gave access to the starboard hangar. Normally it was kept open for convenience during maintenance work, but now it was shut tight, since the starboard hangar had taken a big hit and was still depressurised. Even the mobile suits' goop guns couldn't seal a breach that big; the engineers would have to construct a supporting frame and weld fresh plating over it instead.

It was the pilots' job to protect their mothership. Everywhere Chikara went, he was confronted with more and more examples of how badly they'd failed.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Takinoue shook his head. "You did what you could. I'm not blaming you guys — in fact I'm glad as many of you made it back as you did. But we've got our work cut out for us, I'm afraid." He turned to study the mobile suits in question. Chikara took a step forward to stand beside him, bracing himself for the bad news.

"How many do we even have?" he asked quietly, afraid to know the answer.

"On paper, sixteen," Takinoue replied heavily. "Nine Karasuno, seven Nekoma. We struggled to fit all of them in; the starboard hangar is packed with the most damaged, since we moved the high priority ones in here to work on them more easily." With another sigh, he shook his head. "But that's only on paper. Several of them are so badly damaged that they're probably only good for spare parts."

"Organ donors," Chikara murmured, thinking back to his earlier analogy.

Takinoue gave him a funny look, like he was trying to decide whether Chikara was right in the head, before shrugging. "Sure, if you want. _Maybe_ I can get one of them working again, but we simply don't have the resources to repair them all fully. Realistically, I think we'll be looking at twelve operational in the end. And even then, most won't be at 100%."

The news knocked the wind out of him. "You said these here are the high priority ones?" he asked, staring incredulously at the decapitated Avenger. If that was one of the better ones, what must the rest look like?

"Yes," Takinoue nodded. "These are the ones with the lightest damage — the ones we can fix up fastest so they're ready in case we need them urgently. Of ours, that means Azumane's Avenger, Tsukishima's Defender, and Yamaguchi's Bombardier. Tanaka's Avenger needs more work but it's in here too. From Nekoma, only suits 4 and 12 are likely to be operational any time soon — one Avenger and one Defender."

"No Conductors?" Chikara asked, frowning. He sensed motion behind him and glanced back to see Tanaka entering the hangar; he gave him a quick smile of greeting, stomach swooping with relief, before turning back to Takinoue.

"No. Sorry. Kageyama's is probably a write-off and Kozume's is a mess, and the other two..." He trailed off, wincing. "Well. We only have two, now."

Chikara swallowed hard, slamming shut the doors in his brain to keep that morbid line of thought locked safely away. "Any ETAs?"

"The first three I mentioned aren't too bad. They're ready when you need them. The other three..." Takinoue paused, tapping his chin. "A few hours, hopefully. But like I said, we're rushing patch jobs, nothing more — ideally we'd strip them all down and put them back together again. They'll be operational, but only barely."

Someone called for Takinoue from across the hangar and he waved back. "Be with you in a minute!" he called back, before giving Chikara an apologetic look. "As for the rest," he said, "we're talking days, not hours. I haven't even had chance to assess them thoroughly yet. We'll prioritise the least damaged, but I'd guess a day apiece, minimum."

It wasn't good news, but having seen the state of them, Chikara thought that if anything, Takinoue was being optimistic. "Thanks, Chief," he said, sighing. "I better let you get back to it or it'll take even longer."

Takinoue gently patted his shoulder. "It's not just the mobile suits that need to be in working order," he said pointedly. "You take care of yourself too, alright?"

Chikara didn't trust himself to speak; he simply nodded and watched as the chief kicked off and floated over to where he was needed.

"I only caught the end of that," Tanaka said unhappily, "but it didn't sound good."

Like his mobile suit, Tanaka had come through better than most. He'd been knocked around a bit and suffered some bruises, but other than that he was okay. A small blessing, maybe, but right then Chikara would take all the blessings he could get.

"Let's go somewhere quieter and I'll fill you in," he said, gesturing at the airlock hatch.

They left the clamour of the hangar behind and took refuge in the empty simulator room nearby. After anchoring himself to the deck, Chikara closed his eyes for a few seconds, collecting himself. When he opened them again, Tanaka was standing opposite, leaning back against a simulator pod with uncharacteristic patience.

Chikara filled him in, explaining that they were only likely to have six mobile suits available in the short term. Considering they'd started the day with twenty four — not to mention another cruiser — it was a shocking outcome.

Tanaka, however, didn't seem fazed. "Captain's hiding us, right?" he said. "Six'll be enough until we can get ourselves patched up. It'll be okay, Ennoshita — don't worry."

"What?" Chikara said, choking out a sound that was half incredulous laugh and half sob. "How can you be so calm about all this?" This time he did laugh, short and sharp and bitter. "I'm senior — I'm supposed to be the one reassuring _you._ "

Saying that reminded him of everything else he still needed to do, of the duties he'd been shirking for so long. He didn't know where Azumane was — the medics had been cagey at best, though they'd at least assured him that he wasn't badly hurt — and without... without anyone else, that left it up to him to be responsible for the rest of the team, to hold them together and to make sure the rookies weren't freaking out. He'd have to try to track each of them down, talk to them, try to assuage their concerns... and hope they didn't hate him too much.

Ah. There it was again, that pesky thought that he kept trying to shove out the nearest airlock. He had to sniff and duck his head, taking a couple of deep breaths to get himself back under control.

He startled at the touch on his good arm. Tanaka had moved closer, reaching out carefully. "Hey," he said. "I know... I know things are tough right now. But we'll get through it, like always. I don't know how yet, but we will. Trust me."

For a second, Chikara stared into his open, honest face — so full of concern — before pulling back and shaking his head. He didn't deserve such kindness. "How can you say that, how can you be so nice to me, when you know what I did? How can you not blame me?" he said, his hard-fought control suddenly unravelling. "I should have been there with you and Sawamura and Suga, at the front, not hiding at the back like a coward. Maybe if I had been, we wouldn't —"

Tanaka grabbed his arm again, this time much more firmly — painfully, even. "No," he snapped. "No, you do not get to do this right now. We don't have time for a self-pity party." He ground his teeth together, muscles twitching in his cheek. "Anyway, you think I don't feel the same way? Like maybe if I'd been faster, or smarter, or... or I dunno, _something_ — maybe they'd still be alive, maybe we could have stopped all this."

"But at least you were willing to fight!" Chikara shouted. "At least you were _there_!"

"So were you!" Tanaka yelled back, shaking him. He let go when Chikara flinched, his temper calming as quickly as it had erupted. "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. But that's just it, Ennoshita." He gestured at Chikara's arm meaningfully. "You didn't get that by hiding away, did you? You fought too."

"For all the good it did! For all the good it did —" but his throat closed up before he could force the name out.

_Narita_.

The tears came as his thoughts turned inevitably to the heartrending conversation he'd have to have with Kinoshita when he woke up. _If_ he woke up; the medics had been unwilling to give him a straight answer there. "Head injuries are difficult to predict," was all they'd say.

When they'd seen what was happening, there had been no debate, no question about the correct course of action. When the attacking mobile suits killed Sawamura, killed Suga, and brushed past their defensive screen like a tiger tearing through a mosquito net, they'd all charged forwards to help. Chikara, Kinoshita, Narita... The three Nekoma pilots too, Kai and Sugimura and Teshiro. All rushed ahead, desperate to stop the attackers, to take some of the pressure off their teammates.

They got swatted aside like insects. Chikara had been barely conscious when he'd been brought back aboard the _Karasuno_ , which was probably just as well given his wounds. His Avenger had been dead in space, all systems down, even the cockpit's emergency lights. As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he dreamt he'd been buried alive, imprisoned in a pitch-black coffin. Later, having awoken alive in medbay, the doctors had told him he'd been lucky, and he hadn't understood. It was only when he found out what happened to the others that he realised what they meant.

Because he was the only one to wake up.

Kai and Sugimura were simply gone, their mobile suits nothing more than melted debris. Narita had lived long enough to reach the _Karasuno_ only to die in surgery less than an hour later. Kinoshita and Teshiro were both unconscious in intensive care, kept alive by machines.

Tanaka must have known what he was thinking, because he'd backed off, looking pale and queasy. Chikara had heard he'd been one of the ones to help free Narita from his shattered cockpit.

"I'm sorry," Chikara said finally, drying his eyes in the crook of his elbow. "You're right, I can't fall apart right now." He took a deep breath. "Will you come with me to visit Medbay 2? I don't know if I can face it on my own." He felt like he'd crumple to the deck if he found out any more of his friends were gone.

And Medbay 2 was where most of the Nekoma survivors had been taken, including most of their injured pilots. It was hard enough to see Medbay 1 full of wounded Karasuno crewmen — but at least they still had a ship.

Tanaka nodded. He had to clear his throat before he could speak. "Sure."

They made their way to the gravity block in silence, floating past lots of other weary people, many of them carrying tools or repair materials. There was only so much they could do from the inside, however; at some point they'd need to stop to let the engineers venture outside and seal the hull breaches properly. But before they could stop, they'd have to find a safe place to hide, and Chikara had no idea where to find somewhere like that anymore. Who would be willing to shelter them now after seeing what happened to the last colony to harbour the _Karasuno_?

At least the lift was working this time. If he'd had to climb all the way down via the ladders, he might have given up.

"Have you seen Azumane?" Tanaka asked quietly as they plodded along the corridor towards Medbay 2. "I, uh, talked to Noya."

Chikara had spoken to him too, in Medbay 1. Emphasis on spoken _to_ ; Noya had been uncharacteristically silent, barely saying a word back. He'd never seen Noya so listless, so depressed, and he didn't think it was just because of his leg injury. "I haven't, no," he replied, uncertainly. "I asked about Azumane in the medbay, but the medics wouldn't say much. He's not badly hurt, that's all I know."

Tanaka ran a hand over his shaven skull, something he only did when nervous, but he said nothing else.

Medbay 2 was just as chaotic as Medbay 1, if not more so. Temporary beds had been set up and had even overflowed into a nearby storage room, while others had to make do with sitting on chairs or even the deck. Inside, harried, overworked medics were rushing from patient to patient, providing what treatment they could. Some of the medics wore Nekoma patches, Chikara noticed; even the ones that were injured themselves were helping out, no doubt insisting on working rather than letting their fellow shipmates suffer.

Nobody was free to offer them an update, though one passing nurse did stop to ask if either of them needed medical help; when they said no, he moved straight on as if he'd immediately forgotten about them. Which he probably had: there were more than enough other patients to worry about.

It was Tanaka who spotted Commander Kuroo, perched on a chair by the far wall with his uniform top missing and most of his torso swathed in dressings. Kuroo's Guardian had not been amongst the better-off suits in the port hangar, and having now seen the state of its pilot, Chikara could guess why. After exchanging a wordless look of concern, they picked their way over to speak to him.

"Commander?" Chikara asked once they were close enough; Kuroo was staring at his hands in his lap and hadn't noticed them.

Kuroo started, looking up and blinking rapidly. "Huh? Oh." He frowned, but it was a distracted, distant sort of expression. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing more than there was five minutes ago," Chikara assured him. "How are you?" He tried to crouch down by Kuroo's chair but his wounds protested loudly, so he opted to lean against the wall rather than loom in front of Kuroo. Tanaka meanwhile sat down on the deck, massaging one knee with a faint grimace.

"I don't know," Kuroo admitted in a small voice. After a pause, he shook his head and breathed in, wincing. He gave them a clearly fake smile and said, "I've been better, put it that way. But don't worry about me. Did you need something?"

"Takeda sent me to check up on everyone," Chikara explained. "But I can come back later if you want, sir."

Kuroo sighed, turning his hands over and studying his palms like he expected to find blood there. "A status report," he guessed correctly. "I don't know much — I've been in here the whole time." He frowned over at the nearest medic and added, "They won't give me straight answers and they won't let me leave, either. It's annoying."

"Nobody knows much of anything right now," Tanaka said before stifling a yawn. "Sorry," he added, blushing.

Kuroo's expression turned sour, but it wasn't directed at Tanaka specifically. "That's probably why Takeda sent you to find out some answers, right?"

Chikara shifted uncomfortably. "Like I said, I can come back later."

"No. Let's get it over with." He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the bulkhead with a dull thud. "I don't have a full count yet — depends who lives through the night, I guess — but something like 120 Nekoma crew made it aboard." He ignored Chikara's sudden intake of breath; that was only about a third of the ship's crew.

"Maybe some made it to the colony instead?" Tanaka suggested hopefully.

"Maybe," Kuroo agreed, frowning. His eyes remained shut. "Of my mobile suit team..." He visibly braced himself, his hands clenching into fists. "Three dead. Three critically injured. Three more, including me, with non-critical wounds."

Chikara already knew about Kai and Sugimura, but he didn't think Kuroo could take much more. His morbid curiosity about the third death could wait. "I'm sorry," he said instead, as if a mere apology was at all helpful.

Kuroo opened his eyes, gazing up at him bleakly. "How bad is it for Karasuno?"

"Three... three dead," he mumbled, trying and failing to match Kuroo's clinical detachment. "Five injured to one degree or another."

A small sigh escaped Kuroo's lips. "Shit. Sorry." He let his head drop back again. "I'm hopped up to my eyeballs on painkillers right now, and I'm pretty sure they gave me something to calm me down without telling me after I freaked out earlier, but tell Takeda I'll go report in to him or Captain Ukai as soon as they let me out."

Chikara nodded, pushing away from the bulkhead to stand straight. "I will," he said, recognising the dismissal. "If — if you need anything before then, contact me."

Kuroo stared at him for several seconds before nodding. "Thanks."

After helping Tanaka to his feet, the strain of which felt like someone driving a spear into his side, Chikara turned to go, but Tanaka lingered behind.

"Um, Commander..." he said, shifting from foot to foot. "Is Inuoka one of the ones who's hurt?"

The bizarre question was enough to distract Chikara from the pain and he blinked at Tanaka in surprise. "Inuoka?"

Kuroo seemed equally baffled. "He was hurt, yeah, but nothing serious. I think they discharged him an hour or so back. Why?"

Tanaka shook his head. "Just wondering. Sorry to bother you."

Once they were both outside and away from the crowded medbay, Chikara had to stop to take a breather, leaning against the bulkhead with his hand pressed against his side.

"I could have managed," Tanaka complained gruffly, hovering anxiously nearby. "There was no reason to hurt yourself."

"It's okay... just gimme a moment," Chikara gasped, waiting for the stabbing sensation to subside. As he did, he frowned at Tanaka. "What was that stuff about Inuoka? I didn't realise you two were friends."

After checking the corridor was empty, Tanaka worried his lower lip between his teeth. "We're not. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like Inuoka — he's a fun guy and he's got a healthy respect for his seniors. But I wouldn't say we were friends yet."

"Okay, whatever, you're not friends. That just makes it even more confusing why you'd ask about him."

Tanaka stared down at the deck, running a hand over his scalp again, silent.

A flare of impatience, fuelled by his pain, burned through Chikara. "Hey. Answer me."

With a sigh, Tanaka raised his head. "I think I was the one who shot him," he said quietly, a haunted look in his eyes.

It was just as well Chikara was leaning against the wall. "You... shot him?"

"Not on purpose!" Tanaka protested, eyes widening. He paced back and forth a few steps, suddenly agitated. "It was so fucking confusing, with so many enemy mobile suits around all dressed up like ours. Like we were all cloned. And when the tactical net went down..." He trailed off miserably.

"Friendly fire," Chikara surmised. Given the circumstances, it wasn't surprising: a battle could be confusing at the best of times, and when your mobile suit couldn't distinguish properly between friend and foe, every shot you took was a risk.

"I didn't even realise at first," Tanaka mumbled, back to glaring at the deck. "It was only afterwards that I figured it out. Replaying it all in my head, you know? 'Cause I remember seeing the fake Inuoka after that, mixing it up with Tora. Which means the one I shot must have been the real Inuoka, not the fake one."

"You could check the recordings, the logs."

Tanaka sighed, face falling. "Yeah."

"But even if you did, it was an accident," Chikara said, taking a step closer so he could rest a hand on Tanaka's back. "Like you said, it was confusing."

"Yeah, but I could have killed him," Tanaka whispered, shaking the hand off. "I could have killed him, Ennoshita."

Chikara squeezed the bridge of his nose, too wrung out to process this latest crisis. His mind felt like black sludge, his thoughts unable to stay afloat for long before sinking into the darkness. "Go check the recordings now," he said finally, having forced something approaching a coherent answer out of his mushy brain. "Double check. If you're right, we'll go visit him together, okay? You can apologise and check he's okay, but I'm sure Inuoka will forgive you. He doesn't seem the type to hold grudges."

Taking a deep breath, Tanaka straightened and nodded slowly. "I guess that makes sense," he agreed.

"Good," Chikara said. He paused, watching Tanaka closely as he pulled himself back together. "Will you be alright? I need to report back to Takeda or I'd go with you now."

Tanaka managed a faint grin. "Don't trust me enough to leave me on my own?"

"You are a bit of a trouble magnet."

He snorted in amusement, seemingly back to his old self. "I'll be fine. Go on, go report in."

Chikara patted him on the back again. "Thanks for coming with me, Tanaka," he said, hoping perhaps his expression more fully communicated his gratitude than his words did.

Tanaka seemed to get it, but he didn't make a fuss. He just grinned. "No problem."

It was harder to ward off the guilt and fear and pain without Tanaka to distract him, but Chikara managed to navigate through to the heart of the ship where the bridge and the captain's ready room were without falling apart. Rather than have people constantly coming and going on the bridge, Ukai had lent his ready room to Takeda, so people could report in to him there instead. Ukai himself was apparently on the bridge in a towering rage, so the arrangement suited Chikara just fine. He wasn't sure he'd dare step foot onto the bridge to face Ukai's wrath right then.

"Ah, Ennoshita," Takeda said, looking up from a half dozen datapads with a faint smile as Chikara hovered in the hatchway; it had been left open, but the commander gestured for him to shut it after he entered. "Please, take a seat. How are your injuries?"

"I'm coping, sir," he said honestly.

Takeda nodded and sat back in his chair, taking a moment to take off his glasses and massage his eyes. When he finished, he gave Chikara an apologetic look and smiled self-consciously. "Sorry. Just tired. Now, please, tell me you have some good news?"

Chikara filled him in on what he'd learnt. Judging by the way Takeda's expression fell, it didn't count as good news, but it didn't seem to surprise him either; likely Chikara had been right earlier when Takeda had given him the job mainly to keep him occupied. But when he heard the final tally for the pilots, Takeda's eyes tightened and his lips pressed together.

"I'm afraid I need to talk to you about that," he said grimly.

Uh oh. "About... what, sir?"

Takeda shot a glance in the direction of the bridge and sighed. "I hate to place this burden on you, especially when you're hurt, but Captain Ukai wants you to take command of the _Karasuno_ 's mobile suit team." He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Wait. Me? But what about Azumane?" Chikara asked, shocked. As difficult as it was to think about, with Sawamura and Suga both gone, Azumane was the most senior pilot. He was also the only one remaining with any real experience, which counted right then more than ever.

Given the way Takeda visibly flinched, it was obviously a painful question. "How much of Lieutenant Azumane's history are you aware of?" he asked carefully.

Chikara frowned as jittery, fluttering anxiety grew in his stomach. "Probably not as much as I thought if you're asking me that," he said flatly. "Why won't anyone tell me what's happened to him? Tanaka was asking too."

Takeda hesitated over his reply for a long time. "You're aware he fought in the last war three years ago, yes?" When Chikara nodded, he continued. "From what I understand, it was a very traumatic experience for him. He insisted he didn't need time off to recover — he didn't want to leave Sawamura and Sugawara — and he continued to fly missions without any issues, so perhaps mistakenly we allowed him to remain on active duty. But after what happened earlier, in the battle..."

A chill ran through Chikara. How much more bad news did that blasted battle have in store? "What? What happened?"

"As far as we can tell, he suffered a kind of breakdown," Tanaka explained sadly. "He's being cared for, but he's in no state to go back on active duty yet, let alone lead the team. And honestly, even if he was, I'm not sure he would accept."

Dread continued to amass in Chikara's belly, solidifying into a cold, leaden weight. He could see where this was heading. "But... but what about Commander Kuroo?" he protested, searching frantically for a way out.

Takeda shook his head gently. "Depending on how things go, we may well decide to merge what remains of Nekoma's mobile suit team with Karasuno's. When Lieutenant Commander Kuroo is well enough, we will discuss that with him. But it seems likely that Kuroo is also the highest ranking Nekoma survivor. If so, he will have his hands full dealing with his shipmates — and the Karasuno mobile suit team will still need a commander."

"But — but I can't! They're not going to want to follow me," he said desperately. He felt like the weight was pulling him underwater, and he couldn't fight to keep his head above the surface any longer. "Sir, you know my stance... you know what..." He swallowed and tried again. "You know I cowered at the rear while Sawamura and Suga died."

That did seem to throw Takeda for a moment. He raised his eyebrows. "Is that what you call it?" Something shifted in his expression; it hardened somehow, like concrete setting. "As I recall, your moral position was that you were unwilling to fight against other Federation forces for fear of exacerbating the situation. Yet in the battle earlier, you did just that, just like everyone else. I therefore assumed your position had changed. Am I wrong?"

Chikara had to look away, grimacing. He been too overwhelmed by everything to think deeply about the ethical implications of it all. Takeda's eyes were on him, boring a hole into the side of his head, but he waited —  apparently willing to give Chikara some time to answer.

The idea of shooting — of _killing_ , because that's what it boiled down to — fellow soldiers still didn't sit right with him. But at the same time, it was his job to defend civilians against those who would harm them, even fellow soldiers. And the monstrous attack on Miyagi Colony had been exactly that. There was zero justification for targeting civilians, yet right from the start it had been clear that the colony itself was the primary target, not the _Karasuno_ or _Nekoma_.

That's what his head told him. The logical part of his mind. His heart knew a simpler truth: he was not prepared to simply sit back and watch his friends die over a point of principle.

"You're not wrong," he said at last, reluctantly meeting Takeda's gaze.

Takeda's expression softened into something much gentler. "If you feel you made a mistake, that you wronged your fellow pilots in some way, then is this not a good way to make amends?" he asked. "But if you truly don't feel up to it, I won't force you. I can ask Tanaka instead."

Chikara digested that slowly. Tanaka had a (well-deserved) reputation as a hothead, but Chikara had known him long enough to know that he was also as steady as they came; his mental fortitude was astonishing. He might struggle with the responsibility but he'd damn well give it his best shot all the same.

And really, how could Chikara do any less? He had seniority: it was his duty, whether he liked it or not. And he would never be able to face Tanaka if he tried to absolve himself of this burden only to let it fall on Tanaka's shoulders instead. That would be beyond cowardly.

Besides, Takeda was right: if he was going to redeem himself after trying to sit out the battle, sit out the war even, what better start could he ask for?

"Alright," he said reluctantly, sure he was going to regret it eventually. "I'll do it."

Takeda was not so crude as to be smug or triumphant about it. He simply offered Chikara a small, grateful smile and a nod. "Thank you. I know you'll do a fantastic job." He gestured down at the datapads floating around his desk and said, "There's a lot I'll need to fill you in on later, but it can wait. Go get some rest while things are quiet, okay?"

Chikara nodded back. "Yes sir."

 

* * *

 

Tobio hesitated outside the hatch for so long that when it slid open to allow someone else to exit, he jumped back in surprise.

"Oh, I'm sorry — didn't mean to startle you," the crewman said. He stood to the side and gestured for Tobio to enter. "Here, after you."

Which gave him no choice. He'd _have_ to go in now, or he'd look like a complete idiot. "Thanks," he said gruffly, pretending he wasn't bright red.

His problems didn't end once he was inside, either. He stood stiffly in the centre of the triage area, scanning the room for a familiar mop of red hair. It wasn't as crowded as it had been earlier, right after the battle, but there were still plenty of people with minor ailments awaiting further treatment even now, several hours later. Tobio didn't recognise any of them, so he poked his head through the hatch into the recovery ward off to the right.

Sure enough, there was Hinata. He was awake and extremely bored, staring up at the ceiling while repeatedly inflating his cheeks with air and letting it out again with a soft _pop_. It made him look like a goldfish.

The sight of him ignited a blaze of conflicting emotions, warring violently somewhere deep in the pit of Tobio's stomach. He squeezed his right hand tightly, clenching his jaw, and nearly turned around and left. If he tried to talk to Hinata now he'd probably end up trying to strangle him, and the guy _had_ saved his life for some reason. Murdering him probably wasn't the best way of repaying that, even if it was sorely tempting.

If only Hinata had _listened_ instead of doing what he always did and flying off on a whim!

Unfortunately, Hinata spotted Tobio before he could escape. His eyes widened and he stopped popping mid-inflation, making him look even _more_ like a goldfish.

Reluctantly, Tobio gritted his teeth and walked over to his bed.

"What are you doing here?" Hinata asked — wary and suspicious, as though he'd caught Tobio trespassing.

"What are _you_ doing?" Tobio shot back defensively, regretting it immediately. Dammit. Why did his mouth never say what he wanted it to. "Uh, I mean —"

"What do you think I'm doing?" Hinata said, ignoring Tobio's attempted correction. He lifted his right arm — his left was covered with gauze — and gestured down at himself pointedly. "Do you think I'm here sunbathing or something?"

Hinata was shirtless, several wires and tubes sprouting from his body, and he was covered up to his waist by a thin green sheet. If he'd been any paler, he would probably have been translucent. Or his right side would be, at least; his entire left side was covered in dressings and bandages. Some featured red spots where blood had seeped through.

For a moment, Tobio's fury cooled.

All of the pilots had been taken to one of the medbays to get checked out once they'd landed. Tobio had protested, feeling like a fraud as a doctor ran pointless checks on him even while other crew — other _pilots —_ were screaming for help or groaning with pain. He'd picked up plenty of aches and bruises and apparently a cracked rib from being knocked about so much, but Conductors were well-armoured and he'd come out of the battle far better than most. He hadn't seen Hinata then, though he'd asked about him; all they'd said was that he'd been hurt but that he was stable. Content with that, Tobio had left to change out of his pilot suit and go help out with damage control.

Keeping himself occupied was key; it stopped him from having to think about anything that had happened.

But he couldn't avoid his own mind for ever, and every train of thought that ran through it had one destination: Hinata. Hinata had saved his life. Hinata had disobeyed orders and gone charging off. Hinata had taken that last shot.

Tobio had planned to skip food and go straight to sleep after he'd finished his shift, but then Ennoshita had found him and told him he was going to have to share a cabin with Hinata to make room for the Nekoma survivors. He'd protested but Ennoshita had been in no mood for discussion, which meant Tobio was going to have to talk to Hinata whether he wanted to or not.

But Hinata wasn't in his cabin, and when Tobio failed to find him in any of the other usual places, Tobio had gone back to Medbay 1 to see if he was still there. He'd figured that maybe Hinata was being kept in for observation again, like last time, so they'd just have to get the inevitable argument over with there instead.

That had been the plan. But seeing him now in such a pitiful state made it much harder to stay angry about everything. Had all those wounds happened when Hinata got hit trying to protect him?

"We need to talk," Tobio said finally, trying not to stare at Hinata's injuries.

Hinata scowled, looking away with his nose in the air. "No we don't. I've got nothing to say to you, so just go away."

And just like that, Tobio's anger shot back up to the temperature of molten metal.

" _What?_ " Tobio hissed, scowling back. "Last time you were in medbay, you yelled at me for not coming to see you. Now when I _do_ come see you, you're yelling at me again?"

"I'm not yelling," Hinata said, twisting his expression into one of condescension. "I don't want to bother any of the other patients."

"So you _would_ be yelling if you could."

Hinata was momentarily stumped by that. Instead of arguing, he scrunched his face up and shook his head like he was trying to avoid a bee. "Whatever." He tried to reach up to scratch his head and grimaced when his arm stopped mid-way, tugging against the tube inserted into it. His arm fell back to the bed and he let out the most over-the-top sigh of exasperation Tobio had ever heard. "What do you even want?" he snapped.

Tobio didn't respond immediately; he was following the tube back to its source — a zero-g IV pump. It was filled with a pinkish liquid. "What is that going into you?"

"Uh, artificial blood I think," Hinata said, twisting his head to try to see what Tobio was looking at. "Yachi tried explain but I wasn't paying as much attention as I should." He frowned again. "Hey! Don't change the subject!"

Tobio folded his arms, fixing his eyes on the pillow beside Hinata's head rather than look at him directly. If he looked him in the face, the urge to punch it might be too strong to resist. "Are you okay?" he asked sullenly.

"What does it look like?" Hinata said dryly. "They said more of my blood was in my cockpit than in me. That's bad, apparently." He shuffled around on the bed with a frown, trying to get comfortable. "There's still some bits of metal inside me too. I think they keep itching or something."

Tobio immediately darted forwards to restrain him, overcome with sudden panic as visions of Hinata literally tearing himself open and gushing blood all over the bed flitted through his mind. "Well don't move around, dumbass!" he said. "You'll — you'll tear something, or bleed out inside!"

Hinata yanked his arm free and tried to push Tobio away — weakly, Tobio noticed. "Get off, you bastard!" Hinata complained, raising his voice. "Lemme go!"

Deciding he was doing more harm than good, Tobio cautiously released him. "Just... stay still, okay?"

"They're only small pieces," Hinata said, like he was talking to a child. "Yachi said they probably won't even bother trying to remove them. They already took out the big ones." He tried to sit up, gasping in pain as he did, and looked around. "They let me keep the biggest bit, but I dunno where Kenma put it."

Tobio raised an eyebrow, curiosity getting the better of him. "You kept it?"

"Yeah! It's cool." Hinata stopped looking around and directed another scowl at Tobio. "Anyway, it's not important. I'm not dead or anything, and you've done your duty as a good teammate, so you can piss off now."

It took every bit of self-control Tobio had not to give in to his temper. He ground his teeth together and mentally counted to ten, and then — in a voice like stone grating against metal — he said, "Why the hell are you so pissed off with _me_? _You're_ the one who —" He caught himself raising his voice and swallowed, trying again. "You're the one who went all loose cannon! If we'd stayed with the others like Commander Kuroo said —"

"Dammit, Kageyama, we could have _saved people!_ " Hinata said, puffing up with indignation. He tried to sit up again, failed, and punched the bed with his free hand. "If we'd gone on ahead sooner, we could have stopped them with the Quickshot while they were still fighting the cruisers! Maybe we could've even saved the _Nekoma_ too. But you got scared and _backed down_." He adopted a comically grumpy expression and mimicked Tobio's voice. "'Safer to stay together,' you said. Like that matters when innocent people are dying! What the hell, Kageyama? I trusted you!"

Tobio fumed silently next to the bed, gripping the hem of his tunic tightly rather than risk letting his fists act on their own. "I did _not_ get scared."

"Then what else do you call it?"

"I did not get scared," he repeated stiffly, forcing the words out between clenched teeth. "I was following orders. Like you should have too. If you had, then maybe you wouldn't have blown open another hole in Miyagi!"

Hinata flinched, hiding his face with one hand, but the skin underneath was red and blotchy with anger. "We could have done it. You _know_ we could." He lowered his hand to reveal glistening, bloodshot eyes. "Maybe it was against orders, but if we could have saved even one more person, wouldn't it have been worth it? But you wouldn't trust me!"

And dammit, as much as Tobio would like to deny it, as much as he _despised_ himself because of it, _Hinata was right_. He could have flown ahead with Hinata and together they might have been able to take out at least some of the mobile suits. Maybe even enough for the enemy to stop the attack on the colony and retreat sooner.

But they would have died in the process. Tobio was sure of it. And because of that, he'd hesitated.

He'd held back.

Right until Hinata went off by himself, at least. If Hinata hadn't done that, if he hadn't run headlong into a hopeless three-on-one fight, then Tobio wouldn't have been forced to follow and bail him out. He wouldn't have been forced to target an enemy so close to the colony. And Hinata wouldn't have been able to take that shot.

"How can you talk about trust," he said furiously, "after what you did? After what you made _me_ do? If we'd stuck to the targets we were assigned, we wouldn't have _killed those people_! _"_

The horrified silence in the ward told him he'd shouted that last part. Hinata had buried his face in his hand again, tears leaking down his cheeks, and as Tobio's chest heaved with bottled up grief and spent fury, the truth he'd been fighting to evade for so long finally found its target.

_How many people did I kill this time?_

Before either of them could say anything, someone else spoke.

"Shouyou? Is everything alright?"

Kozume moved into view carrying a cup of something hot and a chocolate bar. He went around the opposite side of Hinata's bed so he was facing Tobio, glaring at him with narrow, suspicious eyes.

"Kageyama here was just leaving," Hinata said, the words muffled by his hand. "Because that's apparently what he does now: runs from fights."

Tobio would not stand for that. "I did NOT!" He leaned closer, prodding Hinata in the chest with a finger. "What I did was try to stop _you_ running off like usual and getting yourself killed! But you wouldn't _listen!_ "

Hinata batted his hand away, his tear-stained eyes glittering like particle cannons. "And how many people died because of that?" he shot back, breathing hard. The monitor by his bed let out an alarmed bleep but neither of them paid it any heed. "People we could have saved if we acted sooner?"

Kozume had slipped around the bed, barring Tobio's way with an arm across his chest, and was trying in vain to force him back. He barely came past Tobio's chin; Tobio could stare right over his head at Hinata. "You should have trusted _me_ ," he said, refusing to budge.

"Really?" Hinata said breathlessly, eyebrows shooting up so far they were lost in his hair. "You — accusing me —?" He broke off, coughing.

"Ensign Kageyama!" Tobio glanced to the side to see a short, blonde-haired medic staring at him, aghast. "What are you doing?! Hinata needs rest!"

When he turned back, fresh guilt flooded through him. Hinata was panting, sweat dripping down his pale face, mingling with the tears streaming down his cheeks. The monitor was by now beeping persistently and the blood tube had come out; it was dribbling fluid all over the deck. "I don't know why I bothered saving you," Hinata sobbed.

_Neither do I_ , Tobio thought to himself.

Kozume managed to push him back a step, giving the medic room to grab the loose tube and silence the monitor before fussing over Hinata. "Don't you dare come back here," Kozume hissed, staring up at him. "Don't even _think_ about it."

With a final shove that sent Tobio stumbling back, Kozume turned his back on him and tried to help the medic clean up the mess.

Everyone else in the ward was staring at him, shocked and appalled, so Tobio turned on his heel, ducked his head, and stalked out. He held back his furious tears until he was a deck away, heading for his cabin. He broke into a run, hoping to get out of sight before the flood of stormy emotion could break through the dam, only to freeze in growing horror when the hatch slid open to reveal that little Nekoma pilot, Shibayama.

"Oh, Kageyama, did you forget — hey, are you okay?" he asked, his smile fading into a concerned frown.

Shit. _Shit_. In his haste, he'd forgotten that they were doubling up cabins now to make room for the Nekoma survivors.

"Sorry," he said gruffly, moving to the next hatch along the corridor. He stopped outside Hinata's cabin, slammed his head against the hatch, and groaned.

"Seriously, Kageyama, are you —"

Tobio opened the hatch, stepped through, and closed it again.

This was a _disaster_.

His box of belongings — such as they were — sat on the desk, and his clothing was laid over the back of the chair next to it. On Hinata's bed was a blanket, a makeshift futon, and a lumpy, misshapen pillow, ready to be laid out on the deck.

All of the rookies were supposed to be doubling up, and even Tanaka had volunteered to share with Noya (who was still in medbay anyway) to free up another cabin. Tobio didn't mind sharing in theory — he didn't spend much time in his quarters anyway, and it's not like he had a lot of stuff. But why _Hinata_ of all people? Why hadn't Ennoshita listened to him? There was no way he could share a cabin with Hinata now. One of them would end up killing the other. Probably Hinata would murder him, since Tobio felt just about guilty enough to let it happen. Or maybe his instincts would take over and he'd accidentally snap Hinata's thin little neck.

He leant back against the closed hatch, sighing. If only Suga were still here... He'd know what to do. Suga was good with people. Suga understood their teammates in a way Tobio knew he would never be able to match.

His breath caught in his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut as he heard Suga's final, grief-stricken scream all over again.

_Dammit!_

Suga was dead. Sawamura, too. It was no use wishing for advice from them. Tobio would just have to find Ennoshita and beg for permission to swap. Maybe he could share with one of the Nekoma pilots instead.

First, though, he wanted to clean up. He stepped through into the minuscule bathroom — just a toilet and a sink jammed into a space the size of a closet — and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were rimmed with red and his cheeks were flushed and blotchy, so he splashed his face with water a few times and dried himself off with his sleeve rather than use Hinata's towel. It helped a bit, insofar as his face now looked damp and pink instead of upset and red, so he went back through and sat down on the edge of the bed for a moment to calm himself, resting his head on his hands.

It was happening again. Every single time he thought things were starting to go well, he fucked it up.

Like just now. For all Tobio knew, he'd made Hinata worse. Perhaps the medics were all fussing over him right then, trying to stop him having a heart attack or bleeding out in his bed.

On the plus side, if he did, Tobio wouldn't have to share a cabin with Hinata. On the negative side, Tobio would probably get tossed out the nearest airlock.

But maybe he deserved it. Hinata was right, he had backed down from a fight. The old Tobio would have charged ahead regardless of the damage to his suit, expecting Hinata to follow regardless of his own feelings, and they would have picked off as many of the enemy mobile suits as they could. The old Tobio would even have been confident of getting away with it.

The newer Tobio, the weaker Tobio, would have died had Hinata not nearly sacrificed himself to prevent it. It was only a miracle that they'd both survived the shocking chaos of those first few minutes. And after all that, the new Tobio wasn't going to risk Hinata getting killed anyway, not when they were both in crippled mobile suits. Not when they were ordered to stay together, giving him the excuse he needed.

Tobio didn't know which version of himself was the right one. Maybe Hinata and old Tobio were right; maybe they should have tried anyway. Maybe they could have saved thousands, tens of thousands of people in the process. Instead he'd chosen to be selfish: he'd chosen to value one life that mattered to him over thousands of lives that didn't. Perhaps that made him some kind of monster, but those thousands of people were just abstract numbers in his head whereas Hinata was a real person, with a name and a face and an annoying hyperactive attitude — his teammate. A teammate who had trusted him, a teammate who had saved his life almost at the cost of his own.

A teammate who had gone on to kill hundreds or thousands anyway, dragging Tobio along with him.

He groaned in frustration, throwing himself back on the bed and squeezing his eyes shut. There was a sick, heavy lump in his throat, like he was trying to throw up a bowling ball, and he couldn't breathe properly.

_Why? Why does this always happen to me? Am I cursed?_

He couldn't cope with this. He needed to get out of there, out of Hinata's cabin, surrounded by Hinata's things, before he smashed them all up. Maybe he'd go to the gym, where there was an actual punching bag to hit.

Or maybe he'd go to the simulators, and replay the battle. Test it out, to see what might have happened if he and Hinata had gone ahead sooner. He'd rather know than not.

As he stormed out of the cabin, he couldn't help but instinctively stop and glance back at the hatch as it closed, checking for blood-like paint. But there was no 'murderer!' daubed across it this time, no hateful epithets.

Though maybe there should be.

 

* * *

 

The rain pattered against Virgil's umbrella, dripping onto the grave before him. He crouched, being careful not to get his trousers dirty on the wet earth, and added fresh flowers to the pot in front of the marble gravestone.

_Karina Zubarak_

_0042-05-05 - 0087-06-29_

_May you bloom eternal_

His wife. He felt the pain of her loss as keenly as the day it had happened. The day that monstrous black mobile suit had rampaged through the streets of Hong Kong. Countless people had perished in terror, vaporised by particle beams or crushed beneath fallen debris, and for what? That dark day warranted little more than a footnote in the history books. The major battles of the war against the Titans, the authoritarian military force that had seized control with the incompetent Federation's tacit permission, had all been fought elsewhere. The tragedy in Hong Kong had merely been "collateral damage".

The 'Psyco-Gundam', they'd called it. Developed to amplify the abilities of a Newtype and sent into battle against other Newtypes. He thought it a fitting name; after all, the pilots must have been psychopaths to willingly fight in one of the most densely populated places on Earth, heedless of the cost.

But he'd come to expect nothing less from these so-called Newtypes. People had once claimed that they represented the future of humanity, that moving into space would trigger the next rung on the evolutionary ladder and lead to a new, enlightened human race dwelling peacefully in space, but Virgil had never believed those wild theories and time had only proved him right. Only a handful of people were claimed to be Newtypes, but Virgil was willing to bet they'd killed millions between them. Like Char Aznable, perhaps the most famous Newtype of all. How could anyone call the man who had tried to render the Earth uninhabitable 'enlightened'?!

He let out a long breath, calming himself. Karina would have told him off for getting so angry. "Focus on the things you can change, not the things you can't," she'd always said, and she was right. The past was buried; the future was what mattered.

And at least he'd had something to bury. Some of the other victims grieving their lost loved ones hadn't even been that lucky.

Virgil straightened, staring down at the grave and letting the smell of wet earth fill his nostrils. Solid ground, thousands of kilometres of trustworthy dirt and rock and magma beneath his feet. Not a thin layer of artificial soil over a metal shell.

Then he raised his head and tilted the umbrella back, letting a few raindrops fall into his face. He blinked them away, revelling in the sensation of cool water trickling down his cheeks, washing the tears away. Natural water, falling from natural clouds, high in the sky above. Dirty water, perhaps, but that could be remedied in time.

Karina had loved the Earth. She'd spent almost her whole life fighting passionately to preserve its natural beauty, its precious wonders. To restore its wounds and repair the damage humanity had inflicted on their home. The devastation of the One Year War had broken her heart, undoing decades of painstaking work in a matter of months, but Karina had persevered. She was not the sort of woman who gave up; and just as she had not given up on Virgil, despite all his flaws, she had not given up on the world.

It was that dazzling flame of hope burning inside her, an unshakable certainty that anything could be achieved with enough time and determination, that had drawn Virgil to her. She'd believed in a better world, even more fervently than he did.

And now she was gone, one more bright light extinguished.

Sighing, he bowed one last time before the grave and turned back to the black car that awaited him. As one, his perimeter of bodyguards began to move with him. They'd formed a loose ring earlier, giving him privacy, but now they closed in to form a tighter escort. Seeing them reminded him of his responsibilities and how much rested upon his weary shoulders.

He couldn't afford to wallow in sorrow all day. He had too much work to do.

Shaking the water from his umbrella and folding it up, he passed it to a bodyguard before climbing into the back seat. His aide, Annika, awaited him; her expression, usually perfectly neutral, was marred by a tiny crease between her brows. That didn't bode well.

Silently, she handed him a towel, which he took gratefully. Once he'd dried his hair and face, he put the towel aside and spoke.

"News?"

Annika nodded. "There has been a complication."

She'd worked for him for many years, and now that Karina was gone, there was nobody he trusted more. The same could not be said for his driver, however, nor for anyone who might be pointing microphones at the windows.

Annika knew that as well as he did, which is why she said nothing more. Virgil held out his hand and she passed him the datapad. He skimmed the brief report — barely more than a paragraph — and handed it back.

For the sake of appearances, he said, "We'll have to review these figures later, once we get back to my office."

"Very well," she replied.

Instructing the driver to set the convoy in motion, Virgil relaxed into the leather upholstery of the limousine and sighed.

The problem with orchestrating a vast conspiracy to transform society and save humanity, he reflected wryly, was the difficulty in delegating. Even with the considerable resources at his disposal, he couldn't do everything; he wasn't a god. For his goals to be realised, he needed others to play their parts — whether they realised what those parts were or not — and to stick to the script he'd written for them. Contingency plans could only compensate for so much.

But he was nothing if not adaptable, and at least he had Annika. The decisions still fell to him, of course, but he could always rely on her to carry them out as effectively as humanly possible.

The drive to his office was not a long one, and the route had long since become mundane. Virgil glanced out of the tinted windows from time to time, taking in the familiar sights of the city, but he spent most of the journey reading reports, making calls, and dealing with the day-to-day demands of running a major business conglomerate. All the while, in the back of his mind, he was planning how best to respond to this latest minor setback.

They say that no plan survives contact with the enemy. He thought he'd learnt that lesson well enough in the cutthroat arena of corporate capitalism, but he was discovering that when it came to genuine battles, it was even more true than he'd realised.

Even so, it was important to put things in perspective. The survival of one of the Rebel cruisers was unfortunate — and unexpected — but most of his primary objectives for the operation had been achieved. The potential exposure stemming from Silhouette's incompetence had largely been cauterised, the first genuine test of the new AMSUs had proved them capable of meeting expectations, and judging by the news reports that were currently dominating the airwaves, the spark he'd lit had finally ignited the civil war.

If only it could have all been wrapped up neatly in one go.

"You're sure they escaped? That everyone has lost track of them?" Virgil asked once they finally reached the privacy of his office, though he regretted the words the moment he spoke. Had it not been verified, Annika would not have brought it to him.

Which Annika knew as well as he did, so she merely nodded. Even so, in the stiffening of her shoulders and the minute tightening of her jaw, Virgil knew he'd offended her.

"My apologies," he said, settling his briefcase on his desk. "I spoke out of frustration."

Taking off his shoes and placing them beneath his desk, Virgil dug his toes into the plush carpet of his office and walked over to the enormous viewpanel display that took up an entire wall. On most days, it would display continuously updating information on the status of his corporate empire: stock prices, daily output, consumption totals, raw material costs, and so on. In one corner he typically had a news channel playing at all times, muted of course, and with a few quick commands into the control panel on his desk, he could call any manager in his employ and speak to them face-to-face via video conferencing.

Now, however, the main display showed something different: a grainy feed from a stealthy spy satellite showing Miyagi Colony — or what was left of it. The scarred, punctured cylinder was surrounded by a cloud of glittering debris. A veritable armada of ships — shuttles, cargo freighters, hospital ships, passenger liners, and a sizeable military presence — attended to the wreck, stabilising what they could and providing aid to the survivors while they awaited evacuation.

With a few whispered words in the right ears just to make sure, the narrative was playing out over the news networks almost exactly as he'd hoped. The Junta had pounced on the opportunity to paint the Rebels as dangerous extremists, as threats to the safety and security of the entire Earth sphere, while also recovering some of their lost moral high ground by making a big deal of the rescue operation. And it had given them the justification they needed to go on the offensive, putting an end to the awkward standoff that had been the status quo so far, with Loyalist forces advancing to 'liberate' Rebel-held colonies.

As for Miyagi and Silhouette's failure there, the survivors now had far more important things to worry about than wild conspiracy theories about any mysterious agents who might have been stirring up trouble on their colony. Even if there were some left who clung to the theory, the colony's central computer core had been one of the key targets, so any evidence stored within was now safely atomised.

Silhouette's death had been regrettable. Despite the mistakes that had been made, he had been a useful asset. And cleaning up after those mistakes had necessitated putting plans into motion prematurely, which Virgil disliked. However, in disaster there was also opportunity, and overall it had worked out in his favour.

"What of the Rebels?" he asked Annika. "Have they said anything else on the matter?"

Annika smiled thinly. "They emphasised their 'strong condemnation' of the attack and declared the escaping cruiser — the _Karasuno_ — to be renegade, issuing instructions to all units to shoot on sight. They also offered to send aid to Miyagi under a flag of truce, which the Junta have refused."

Ah yes, the _Karasuno_. The loose end that continued to irritate, a persistent itch that refused to be scratched. They'd avoided being bombed, frustrated his efforts to destabilise Miyagi, and even gone on to kill his agent, and now they'd somehow escaped certain destruction as well.

Now that they were universally vilified and on the run from friend and foe alike, Virgil doubted they would pose any significant threat, but the possibility remained that they knew something that could hinder his operations. "How did they escape? Why didn't the Loyalist warships destroy them?"

"Ah," Annika said, glancing at her datapad. She doubtless knew everything it said, but he'd noticed she liked to use the gesture to collect her thoughts. "According to our analysis, our AMSUs might have done their work too well. More survived to the end of the battle than we had expected, so when the Loyalist mobile suit teams arrived to clean up the evidence, they took some significant damage. Between that and the urgent distress calls from the colony, the Loyalist force chose not to make any serious attempt at pursuit."

Virgil tapped his chin, frowning. It had been a disappointing end to what had otherwise been a perfectly executed operation. "That surprises me. I thought the lead ship bore a grudge against _Karasuno_."

"Indeed," Annika said. "The _Karasuno_ had already escaped them once. Our expectation was that they would pursue and destroy any survivors."

Using the Loyalists — and the _Aobajohsai_ in particular — to mop up after the AMSUs had been Annika's idea, and Virgil had agreed with it. It had been, in many ways, too elegant a solution to resist: have the AMSUs wipe out any potential witnesses who could endanger his plans, then have the Loyalists show up just in time to destroy the evidence — the AMSUs — and wipe out any surviving Rebels in the event that the AMSUs had failed to do the job. Except it hadn't worked out quite as they'd hoped.

"We're sure they're not suspicious themselves?" Virgil asked, staring at the ship in question on the viewscreen — the _Aobajohsai_ was big enough to stand out amongst all the other ships like a whale amongst a shoal of fish. "I assume you're monitoring them?"

"Of course," Annika agreed. "We'll be keeping an eye on them. But we've observed no grounds for concern so far. Their choice to stay at Miyagi rather than chase the _Karasuno_ seems to be purely humanitarian."

"Even so, they failed to catch the _Karasuno_ twice now," Virgil said unhappily, returning to his chair. "Perhaps it's time to bring in a more reliable ship to get the job done; please make the relevant enquiries and see whether the Junta can dispatch anyone suitable. Also, please let it be known through the appropriate channels that there will be a significant reward for any information that leads to the location and destruction of the _Karasuno._ "

Annika nodded. "It shall be done."

Pressing the controls, Virgil shut off the view of Miyagi and switched it to a series of graphs and spreadsheets. He couldn't afford to get distracted by one lone ship; he had bigger things to be concerned with. "Alright, let's move on to the AMSUs. Have we found a way to increase production to make up for the expenditure at Miyagi?"

Moving over to the display, Annika pointed at one of the graphs showing projected output. "We've been able to divert more of the output from Von Braun to our prototype assembly facility," she said. "The Junta wasn't happy about their reduction in supply, but ruffled feathers can be soothed easily enough. We're also pushing to bring the second and third facilities online sooner than planned."

"Good."

Virgil wasn't delusional; he knew there was no way he could control every aspect of the situation once the civil war began in earnest. Wars were inherently unpredictable. But that was exactly why the next stage of his plan required little input on his part; all he had to do was tilt the scales from time to time to keep the two sides as balanced as possible, making sure nobody got too strong an upper hand and prolonging the war until both sides were exhausted. The longer it went on, the more AMSUs he could manufacture and the more desperate the Junta would be to procure them.

And if things did go wrong... well, again, the more AMSUs he had available, the more options he'd have to correct things.

"Have the analysts learnt anything useful from the Miyagi combat data?"

Annika left the display and sat down opposite, on the other side of his desk. "They're still working on it," she said, "but they do have some preliminary conclusions. The strategy proposed by the Aobajohsai commander was clearly effective, but the analysts believe we may need to re-balance the priorities. At times the AMSUs were too focused on trying to destroy enemy commanders and coordinators and not enough on defending themselves against other threats."

That was the downside with the Autonomous Mobile Suit Units — they were, as the name suggested, autonomous. The heavy Minovsky particle interference in a battle rendered any kind of remote control virtually useless, so once the AMSUs entered combat they were left to make their own decisions. The coordination technology used in the Conductor overcame many of the difficulties that had beset similar projects in the past, enabling AMSUs to work together and compensate for each other — for example, one unit could provide sensor data for another when it got temporarily blinded or damaged. The tight coordination also compensated for the predictability inherent in any AI-controlled flight system. But they weren't _intelligent_. Their thinking was limited by their programming, and their ability to adjust to new situations was only as good as the ability of the analysts to envisage such situations and write appropriate subroutines for them.

All of that was by design, of course; Virgil was trying to save humanity, not create something that could get out of control and destroy it. The jury was still out on whether or not robots could ever be self-aware, but he had no intention of being the man to find out the hard way.

But when your opponents were essentially superhuman, you needed superhuman weapons to beat them. The preliminary testing with simulations and AMSU prototypes had shown that few human pilots could hope to match them, and now the first live test had proven that to be true in real-world battles as well; indeed, they'd exceeded expectations in many ways. How well they would fare against a Newtype, however... that remained to be seen.

Spinning his chair so that he was facing the large fish tank built into the wall opposite the viewscreens, Virgil watched a pair of peppermint angelfish dart in and out of the coral, chased by a playful ribbontail stingray. Karina had loved the ocean, especially the colourful, exotic fish that had become so rare in the tropical seas and reefs; he had invested a great deal of money in conservation efforts and aquariums, trying to preserve as many of them as possible. Keeping some in his office was a way of keeping her spirit close to him, and every time he looked at the fish, he remembered what was at stake.

Annika waited patiently, watching the fish too. He'd made sure that some of the species in the tank were from her native Australia, refugees of sorts fleeing the devastated Great Barrier Reef just as she had also fled the destruction inflicted on her home. In so many ways, they were partners in this endeavour, not merely employer and employee. Both of them shared an overriding desire to preserve the Earth and protect its people from those that would threaten them from space.

And both had lost family to those threats.

"Sorry, Annika," he said, apologising for his lapse in concentration. "Was there anything else we needed to address?"

She gave him a quick smile of understanding. "With your permission, I would like to expand our funding into Down to Earth. It's beginning to pick up real momentum, but if we're to keep that momentum going throughout the civil war, we'll need to decentralise the movement and fund more local chapters."

Virgil nodded. Down to Earth was a cause as dear to her heart as his, and Annika had taken it upon herself to manage the movement personally. "Whatever you need." He gestured at the screens, even though they no longer showed the view of Miyagi. "I'm assuming they will be able to make some use of the Miyagi situation?"

"I expect so," she said, tapping a few commands into her datapad. "Some talking points are already being prepared. Emphasising the vulnerability of spacenoids to this sort of disaster ought to prove persuasive."

Naturally, Virgil thought. After all, who in their right mind would really want to live in a tin can in space? All that stood between a colonist and asphyxiation in the cold vacuum of space was a few metres of metal and soil. Never mind the fragility of food, water, and oxygen supplies, the risks of spikes in solar radiation...

Humanity would only ever be truly safe on its home planet. Earth was fragile too, in its own way, but it could also endure much more. If only those insane spacenoids would stop dropping rocks and wrecked colonies on it, to give the world a chance to _heal_.

"Ensure we nudge our friends in the media in the same direction," he said, rapping the desk with his fingers. "People will be feeling scared and vulnerable with a civil war raging. Now is probably the best time to sway them, while they're most open to our message, and we can't rely on Down to Earth alone for that."

"Very well, sir," Annika said, making a note on her datapad before pocketing it. "Unless you need me for anything else, I'll get on it now."

Virgil shook his head. "No, thank you, Annika. But do let me know if any other unexpected situations arise."

"Of course, Mr Zubarak."

 


	17. Regret and Motivation

The funeral for the lost pilots and crew was a sombre affair.

It was the first such service Kei had attended while aboard a ship, so he had been shocked to find that it was to take place _outside_ , on one of the long launch decks that allowed the mobile suits to be catapulted out into space. In Kei's opinion this was more fuss and effort than the occasion called for, since it meant everyone climbing into space suits and listening to the service over the comms system. But by the time he'd taken his place in the front row beside Tadashi and Ennoshita, he could admit that in this case perhaps it was necessary: no space aboard the ship, not even one of the hangars, could accommodate so many people at once.

Even so, not everyone could attend; some still had to man the ship, and others were too badly hurt to leave the medbays. But the majority of the _Karasuno_ 's crew were present, as were virtually all of the _Nekoma_ survivors. They lined up, facing out into the debris-strewn expanse of the so-called Shoal Zone where the _Karasuno_ was now hiding. It was a fitting location for such a solemn event, since the Shoal Zone itself was like a floating graveyard: thanks to the gravitational curiosities of the Earth-Moon system, debris from the One Year War nearly twenty years ago had begun to cluster together, as if sinking to the bottom of an ocean. Shattered colonies, wrecked warships, twisted remains of long-dead mobile suits: they were all there, drifting in the silent void.

And soon they would be adding yet more new residents to this celestial cemetery. Kei found it unspeakably tragic that they didn't even have enough coffins for them all. Rather than try to choose who should receive a coffin and who shouldn't, it had been decided to use burial shrouds for everyone instead. Then again, they hadn't even been able to recover the bodies of many of their fallen colleagues, assuming they'd left anything behind to find; space warfare was like that sometimes. As such, beyond the rows of shrouded bodies waiting to be launched were a series of simple metal plates, fashioned from spare armour sheeting or even suitable chunks of wreckage, each inscribed with the name, birthdate, and death of a member of the crew. Most of these were dedicated to members of the _Nekoma_ who were known to have perished; in a touching addition, some of the surviving Nekoma engineers had managed to weld together a reasonably accurate model of the _Nekoma_ , acting as a memorial for all those whose status was still uncertain, as well as the ship herself.

Kei tried to pay attention, he really did, but after some initial words by Captain Ukai and a longer eulogy by Commander Takeda, individual crew members were invited up to say a few words on behalf of fallen friends and colleagues. Not all of them — given the dozens of dead it would take hours otherwise — but enough that Kei's attention began to drift. He was tired, there was an irritating scratch just over his shoulder blade that he really wanted to scratch, and too much had happened over the past few days for him to really concentrate on something that, while sadly necessary, seemed to stretch on far longer than it needed.

As his mind wandered, he found himself replaying — not for the first time — the events of the battle three days ago. Not that he'd ever admit it to anyone, even Tadashi, but he found himself struggling to come to terms with it all. Not just the trauma of it, the fact that they'd all come perilously close to dying, though that was certainly part of it; no, what bothered him more was how little _sense_ it seemed to make. Tadashi had spoken of a similar reaction, of not being able to process it properly, as though it was all just a bad dream or a horrible simulation, but Kei had more faith in his emotional fortitude and believed his own reaction was different. Yes, it had been shocking, and terrifying, and if his inability to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time was anything to go by, it had undoubtedly had an effect on him.

But what his mind rebelled against was the lack of logic behind the attack. Why had the attackers been flying with Karasuno and Nekoma colours? Where had they even come from, given that their mothership had never been spotted? Why had they all apparently overloaded their reactors when sufficiently damaged, rather than just ending up as wrecks? Why had none of their pilots chosen to eject instead? Their performance hinted at veteran pilots, or at least some form of elite training — even if they were all crazy, sending two dozen highly-skilled pilots out on a suicide mission seemed like a terrible waste. And most importantly of all, why had they made Miyagi itself the primary target? Some of the enemy had all but ignored everything else to attack it, even if it left them open to counterattack.

It made no sense.

These were the questions that haunted him at night. Tadashi had claimed that he was deflecting, obsessing about the details as a way of avoiding coming to terms with the deaths of their fellow pilots and so many others. Kei had scoffed in response, coldly enumerating all the ways he had already adapted to their deaths, ceasing only when Tadashi begged him to stop, sniffling and on the verge of tears. They hadn't spoken of it again since, and given how busy everyone else was, it had left Kei with nobody to discuss it with, or at least nobody whose opinions he trusted. Which left him with himself, repeating questions over and over in his mind and waiting, in vain, for answers he could not provide.

And that was both infuriating and unacceptable. So yes, when the memorials were launched ceremoniously from the deck with a gentle pulse from the electromagnetic catapult and they all turned to trudge back inside, he was in a bad mood. And maybe his fatigue and bewilderment meant he was more on edge than normal, less in control of his barbed tongue than he might otherwise be. But equally, Hinata should have known better than to ask such an inappropriate, inane, _idiotic_ question.

"Do you think souls really are weighed down by gravity?" he asked quietly.

They were in the pilots' locker room, stripping out of the pilot suits they'd worn to the burial service (and Kei had finally been able to scratch his shoulder, surreptitiously rubbing it against the locker door when nobody was looking). Thanks to his new position, Ennoshita had been obliged to stay behind with Ukai and Takeda to offer additional condolences and consolation to those who wished to grieve more privately. The Nekoma pilots were amongst this number, choosing to hold their own private ceremony afterwards, but they had always been a tight-knit team. With Kinoshita and Nishinoya still in Medbay 1 and unable to attend in the first place, and Azumane still hiding somewhere, that left only the four rookies and Tanaka, and Tanaka had all but ripped off his suit, stuffed it heedlessly into his locker, and stomped off muttering gruffly about getting drunk.

"What?" Kei asked sharply, not quite believing his ears.

Hinata's expression was pensive and oddly fragile. "I mean, would their souls stay in space? Or would the Earth's gravity pull them down?"

Kei was so incensed that he stopped undressing and turned to Hinata fully. "Firstly," he said, ticking his points off on his fingers, "the concept of a soul is sheer nonsense. It's a fairy tale clung to by those who are unable to handle the permanence of death. Secondly, even if you _did_ believe in souls — and honestly that does not surprise me given how childish you are — why the hell would you think they'd be affected by gravity? And thirdly, we're at a Lagrange point. Did you not see all that junk floating outside? It'll stay there, because Luna's gravity is cancelling out the Earth's. I know you've barely got two brain cells to rub together, but I can't believe I have to explain such a basic concept to a spacenoid. Do I also need to explain how the Earth isn't flat and Santa doesn't exist?"

While he delivered this tirade, Hinata had been steadily growing redder in the face and pushing out his chest: an angry puffer fish about to burst.

And burst he did.

" _Firstly_ ," he spluttered, pointing at Kei, " _fuck you_. Secondly, is it so hard to believe souls exist? Noya told me Newtypes can even speak to the dead, so who would they be talking to if not souls? And thirdly..." He'd obviously run out of points, because his eyes went vacant as he tried to come up with one on the fly. "Thirdly, uh, don't be so rude! Not right after a funeral. People have a right to their beliefs!"

"You can't prove one delusion with another," Kei replied, returning his attention to stripping off his pilot suit. "The idea of Newtypes is just a crackpot theory, a pseudo-religion for the Universal Century. And I don't care what juvenile twaddle you believe as long as you keep it to yourself."

"Oi," Kageyama rumbled, turning a baleful eye on him.

"Don't tell me you believe this gibberish as well," Kei said, levelling a scornful look at Kageyama.

"Tsukki..." Tadashi warned, gently admonishing him, though he was distracted by his struggle to get his arm out of its sleeve; it had tangled itself around his hand.

"I don't care either way," Kageyama snapped. "But you don't get to tell someone else what to believe. Or not to believe."

Kei stared at him incredulously. "Are you sticking up for _Hinata_?" It was common knowledge that the two had fallen out (again). Kei didn't know why, exactly, and he didn't really care; it was probably something trivial, like fighting over who got which bed in the cabin they were now sharing.

"I don't need you to protect me, Kageyama!" Hinata protested sourly, redirecting his ire to his cabinmate and folding his arms. "How many times do I have to say that?"

Kageyama turned to face him, pointing at Kei without looking. "Not everything is about you! That bastard is getting on my nerves, that's all!"

"Well... good! Because I can handle him myself."

"I'd like to see you try!" Kageyama snorted.

"I don't even want to hear you speak right now," Hinata said, absolutely livid, "so just butt out and shut the hell up."

Kei smirked. "Not so fun when your little pawns develop minds of their own, is it, your majesty? You should take care not to let him get out of control again, after what happened last time."

Kageyama didn't waste breath on a reply. Instead he unlatched the magnetic soles on his boots, kicked off from his locker, and soared across the room like a torpedo. Taken by surprise and encumbered as he was by his half-shed pilot suit, Kei was slow to react, which enabled Kageyama to slam him against his own locker. As Kei reeled back, Kageyama grabbed a railing and spun his whole body into a kick to Kei's chest, sending Kei flying back into Tadashi; they both ended up drifting through the air in a tangle of limbs.

Using Tadashi as a springboard (and eliciting a squawk of pain that he'd have to apologise for later), Kei launched himself back towards Kageyama, grabbing a handful of his pilot suit for purchase and head-butting him.

"Tsukki! Kageyama!" Tadashi wailed. "Please stop fighting! _Please_!"

Things only got worse from there as the scuffle became more vicious. Fighting in zero-g made it hard to put any force behind your blows, so you had to be more creative, going for weakpoints. Unfortunately Kageyama knew that as well as Kei did, almost gaining the upper hand with a sharp jab to the kidneys until Kei retaliated with a blow to Kageyama's solar plexus, winding him. Both let out an _oof_ of surprise as they bounced off the ceiling, spinning and careening around the room as they fought.

"Hinata, please, help me stop them!"

"I'd rather just let them fight," Hinata said, his arms folded. "Maybe they'll beat the rudeness out of each other."

Tadashi sounded like he was on the verge of tears. " _Hinata_! Please, imagine what Sawamura or Suga would say!"

"...Fine."

Neither Kei nor Kageyama were willing to give up the fight easily, not even with Tadashi trying to pull Kei away and Hinata tugging (ineffectually) at Kageyama. It was only when Kageyama planted a stray foot in Hinata's side that it ended, mainly because Hinata's ensuing bellow of pain was loud enough to shock some sense into them.

"Are you alright, Hinata?" Tadashi said at once, moving to help. Hinata was curled up around himself, his face scrunched up in agony as he floated helplessly across the locker room. Kageyama stared at him with a stricken expression, like he'd accidentally murdered a baby lamb or something, and even Kei felt a twinge of guilt. The guy was barely out of medbay, after all. He hadn't seen Hinata's blood-spattered cockpit after the battle, but he'd heard about how gruesome it had been.

Kei returned to his locker, hiding his face from the others as he resumed undressing. He was breathing hard and he knew he was flushed and red by the hot sensation of his face and neck. Ashamed of himself for losing control like that, he tuned out Tadashi's attempts to soothe Hinata and focused on extricating his long legs from his pilot suit.

"Hinata, I'm — I'm sorry, I didn't mean —"

"Don't touch me!" Hinata groaned, his voice tight with pain and hurt. "Just... just go away."

Barely a minute later, Kageyama had torn off his pilot suit and slammed it into his locker. He stormed out only half-dressed, face red, without another word.

"I can't believe you're sharing a room with him," Tadashi said softly. "Can't you ask Ennoshita to let you swap?"

"I did," Hinata grumbled. "Kageyama did too. Ennoshita said no. He thinks we'll 'get over our differences' if we're forced to share a room."

Finally free of his pilot suit, Tsukishima turned around and began to pull on his uniform. Hinata was still curled up, floating in the air, breathing in shaky, painful gasps, but he didn't look as though he was about to vomit from the pain anymore. Tadashi had anchored him to a railing by clipping the lifeline on his belt to it and was now hovering nearby, hands outstretched like he wanted to help but wasn't sure how or whether he was allowed.

"Sorry, Hinata," Kei said quietly.

Hinata peered over at him, eyes narrowed. "For getting me kicked in the side or for mocking my beliefs?"

Tadashi was glaring at him too, urging him to apologise properly, and for once Kei decided not to be stubborn about it. "Both," he said reluctantly. He still thought the nonsense Hinata spouted about souls and Newtypes and such was worthy of derision, but in hindsight perhaps immediately after their colleagues' funeral was not the best time for a theosophical debate.

After a few more minutes, Hinata straightened out and anchored himself to the deck once more.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Tadashi asked. "Do you need to visit medbay?"

"I'll be fine, stop fussing," Hinata said, shooing him away, though he added a grateful smile to take the sting out of it. "Thanks."

Tadashi waited a little longer, unconvinced, but when Hinata failed to gush blood or break out into convulsions or whatever he was expecting, he finally returned to his own locker.

Kei had just about finished dressing, but he decided to wait. As he did, he watched Hinata struggle with his pilot suit; it was a wonder he'd even managed to get it on in the first place given his wounds, because the skin-tight garments were clingy and awkward at the best of times. Three times he considered offering to help, and when Hinata winced yet again while trying to bend over, he found himself floating over before he realised it.

"You're hurting yourself," he said bluntly, coming to a stop beside him.

Hinata stared up at him suspiciously, eyes narrowed. "I can manage," he said curtly.

Kei matched his stare but bit down on his automatic response. He could recognise Hinata's wounded pride for what it was and knew that he would be just as prickly in the same situation. It was... difficult, sometimes, to admit weakness. "Don't worry," he said, smirking. "This is a one-time thing — we're not friends or anything. But you'll be here for hours at this rate."

After shooting a questioning glance at Tadashi and apparently receiving an encouraging response, Hinata sighed and nodded. "Fine. But don't you dare tell anyone."

Kei didn't even bother to respond to that. He just crouched beside Hinata's legs and began tugging the pilot suit down, saving Hinata from having to bend double and stretch his injuries.

"Thanks," Hinata muttered, barely loud enough for Kei to hear it.

A strange, awkward peace settled on the room. Once out of his pilot suit, Hinata insisted he could dress himself, but Tadashi was deliberately going slowly — undoubtedly as an excuse to hang around and ensure Hinata actually could manage — and Kei was content to wait, so he backed off and hovered by his locker.

"Where's Azumane, anyway?" Hinata said while he fastened his trousers. "I would have thought he'd want to attend. He was close with... with the others, wasn't he?"

"Azumane is probably in a dark room somewhere, gibbering and rocking backwards and forwards as he relives the battle," Kei replied coldly, without thinking.

"Tsukki!" Tadashi cried, aghast.

Hinata was no less shocked. "That was WAY out of line," he snapped. "Have a little respect, you cold-hearted bastard!"

Kei shrugged. "What exactly about his situation is worthy of respect? If he was this fragile all along, it was an error of judgement — and not just his — to let him fly into combat. An error that could have cost all of us our lives, yours included."

"What are you talking about?" Hinata asked, torn between offence and confusion. His expression was ridiculous, all twisted up like he'd let a toddler rearrange his facial features.

Realising for the first that that Hinata might not actually have heard, since he'd only been released from the medbay shortly before the service, Kei paused and frowned. "Didn't you know? Azumane's mind snapped like a twig during the battle," he said bluntly. "Some kind of breakdown, the rumours say."

That was the danger of letting yourself get too close to people, especially when you were in a risky profession. If Azumane couldn't handle it then he had no place in the team. It was a harsh lesson to learn, but a necessary one. Kei folded up his pilot suit and turned to return it to his locker, shooting a glance at Tadashi. He'd stopped dressing, head bowed, probably because his hands were trembling too badly to continue.

Tadashi would have to learn that lesson as well, or Kei feared he'd end up the same as Azumane.

"But... but I thought he was okay?" Hinata babbled — if possible, even more bewildered than before. "Should we go visit him, try to cheer him up?"

A memory flashed through Kei's mind, one that he discarded as quickly as it had appeared. "No," he said firmly.

"It would probably do more harm than good right now," Tadashi added, ever the diplomat. "I don't think he'd want us to see him like that, and he's not accepting visitors anyway. But maybe once he's feeling better, we could go together."

Hinata considered that for a moment before nodding. "Okay. Good plan." He finished up, shut his locker, and paused. "Are you two heading to the mess next? I think Tanaka could use the company, so I was going to join him."

Tadashi's face fell. Kei knew his friend was exhausted — neither of them had been able to sleep well, and the cramped quarters they now shared only made it worse — but he also knew that Tadashi would be unable to say no, so he cleared his throat before Tadashi could speak. "Maybe later."

Hinata studied him for a moment then nodded. "Alright."

Once he was gone, Tadashi let out a sigh of relief and shot Kei a grateful look. "It's not that I don't want to, it's just..." He shrugged helplessly. "I don't think I can take any more emotions right now. I feel like that boy in the story about the dam, trying to plug all the holes with his fingers..."

"It was a dyke, not a dam, and I believe there was only a single finger involved." Kei adjusted his glasses. "It's something you're going to have to learn to deal with at some point, you know."

Tadashi sighed once more, closing his eyes wearily. "Can we not have this conversation again right now? I can't deal with yet another fight, not today." He opened his eyes and looked Kei up and down. "Speaking of which, are _you_ okay? Kageyama wasn't pulling his punches."

He'd certainly have some bruises, and maybe a black eye judging by how swollen his cheek felt, but Kei's pride stung more than his body. He sniffed indignantly. "He'd have to try harder than that to hurt me."

"Maybe don't give him the opportunity to try?" Tadashi said pointedly, arching an eyebrow.

Kei gave him a smug smile in return. "Excellent suggestion, Tadashi. I'll be sure to punch him first next time. After all, they do say that offence is the best form of defence."

Tadashi rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "I'm going to bed."

 

* * *

 

Ryuu had already started on the bottle by the time Hinata limped in to the pilots' mess. Without saying a word, he slopped some into another glass and nudged it across the coffee table as Hinata gingerly lowered himself onto the sofa opposite Ryuu's armchair.

"Thanks," Hinata said, taking it and sniffing at it. "Um. What is it?"

"Dunno," Ryuu said, shrugging. "Didn't come with a label." He refilled his own glass and gulped another mouthful down, hissing as it burnt its way down his throat.

Cautiously, Hinata took a sip; his face promptly puckered up and he started coughing. "Wow. Sure that's not engine fuel?"

Ryuu laughed. "You could fuel a rocket with it, right?" He sipped some more. "I was saving it for a special occasion."

Not that this was the occasion he'd had in mind. He'd figured he'd only break it out when they had something to celebrate — a victory, or maybe a promotion, or... hell, he didn't know. A marriage, even. Something positive.

Hinata fell silent, swilling the amber fluid around and staring into it like it held the answers to the all the mysteries of life.

Narita always used to do the same. He never drank much, and when he did, he'd go quiet and thoughtful. Not like Noya, or Kinoshita, or Ryuu himself; they all got loud and rowdy. Then Ennoshita would complain and tell them off and they'd all giggle and shush themselves and pretend to be quiet for a minute, before Kinoshita would start laughing again or Noya would start _singing_ or something just as crazy and then Narita would smile and watch while Ennoshita groaned...

Ryuu gulped down another mouthful, burning the memory away like he was swallowing acid.

"Tanaka, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Ryuu said, shifting position so he was sitting sideways in the armchair with his legs hanging over one arm. It let him see Hinata without having to turn his head.

Hinata looked up from his drink briefly, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "What do you think happens when we die?"

_Oh man,_ Ryuu thought, _I am not drunk enough yet for questions like that_. He swallowed some more, refilled his glass, and sighed. "I dunno, man. I try not to think about it."

Nodding slowly, Hinata took a sip too. He looked like he was drinking pure lemon juice. "Tsukishima said —"

"Nope, don't care," Ryuu said, making a cutting gesture with his hand. "I can guess. Tsukishima can go fuck himself."

Hinata smiled at that. Faintly and briefly, maybe, but it was good to see all the same. It made Ryuu want to say something else, something to bring that smile back again.

"Y'know, when Tsukishima first came aboard, Noya decided we should play a prank on him," he said, staring up at the ceiling as he remembered. "Something to teach him a little respect, Noya said. And since Tsukishima had somehow managed to piss off just about everyone on his first day, even Sawamura was onboard with it. But Suga had been on leave that day, so when he came back and heard the stories, he told us to leave it to him. And Suga's pranks were always the best — even Noya knew that. I mean, you saw that paintball game he organised. That was just scratching the surface."

Ryuu grinned, a huff of silent laughter escaping his nose. "Tsukishima was the arrogant, logical type. Convinced he was always right, y'know? Well, you do know, you've met him and it's not like he's changed much in a month. Anyway, so Suga told us we were going to teach him a lesson. 'Let's shake that unshakeable confidence of his', he said."

Hinata was listening intently, cross-legged on the sofa. "How?"

"Well, first Suga pretended to be a rookie."

"What?!"

"It was brilliant," Ryuu said. "Suga borrowed an ensign's uniform from somewhere and pretended to be a new pilot, just like Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. The rest of us were all in on it of course. And then he went on to pester Tsukishima as much as he could. Constantly asking him questions, trying to get to know him, following him around everywhere..."

A smile began to creep across Hinata's face.

"Obviously Tsukishima started to get really annoyed," Ryuu laughed, sipping at his drink. "Told Suga to leave him alone, called him all sorts of rude things. But Suga didn't give up easy — he kept at it all day, pretending to be 100% clueless rookie and relying on Tsukishima for everything. Even woke him up in the middle of the night complaining he'd had a nightmare."

Hinata snorted and sipped at his drink. "That's so mean! I love it."

"And on the second day, Suga kicked it up a gear. Did everything he could to innocently annoy Tsukishima. Brought Tsukishima some coffee then 'accidentally' spilled it all over him. Kept getting in his way in our first training simulation. By lunchtime, Tsukishima was out of his mind and yelled at Suga for 20 minutes non-stop. Suga even _cried!_ Man, I've no idea how he managed it. Should've been an actor, not a pilot."

By now Hinata was outright grinning, sitting up and looking a bit perkier. "What then?"

Ryuu grinned too. "It only made Suga try harder. He spent the rest of the afternoon falling over himself to try to make it up to Tsukishima. Bought him this really, really stinky fruit as a present and left it in Tsukishima's cabin. Bowed his head to the deck and promised to do whatever he asked, like doing all his laundry after the coffee spill earlier, then screwed it up by 'losing' his uniform somewhere. Even promised to cook him an apology meal, which turned out to be burnt to a crisp and completely inedible.

"And then, the _next_ day, Suga went back to being himself. More than that: he turned into Sawamura on steroids. Super strict, super scary. Tsukishima nearly wet himself when he realised he'd been abusing his superior officer for two days. Suga told him it was, um, 'a lesson about treating others with respect regardless of rank' I think."

Hinata laughed and shook his head. "I wish I'd been there to see it!" he said gleefully, until he swallowed too much of his drink and started choking. "Did he behave after that?" he asked hoarsely.

"Suga kept him on his toes for a few more days. I think Tsukishima was always a bit scared of him after that," Ryuu said, leaning back again with his legs outstretched and his hands clasped behind his head. Slowly, his grin faded. "Damn, I'm really gonna miss him."

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, because the fragile bubble of good cheer immediately popped. It hit him all over again that he'd never again see Suga, or Sawamura, or Narita. No more pranks. No more laughter, or wise words, or — in Narita's case — losing to him at cards.

The team just wouldn't be the same without them.

They were both quiet for some time after that, drinking in silence, each alone with their thoughts. Idly, Ryuu wondered if anyone else was going to turn up; Noya and Kinoshita were still in medbay, but Ennoshita ought to be back sometime, along with the Nekoma gang. He hadn't exactly planned on it being an official wake or anything, but it still felt a bit disrespectful to only have two of them there to remember.

Hinata was becoming increasingly fidgety, opening his mouth to speak several times only for no words to emerge. The third time it happened, Ryuu frowned.

"You okay? Wounds hurting?"

"It's not that," Hinata said, shaking his head. He'd gone back to staring into his drink; half of it was gone now, so Ryuu leaned over and topped it up again. He was a little shocked at how much of the bottle was empty already.

"So what is it?"

Hinata bit his lip, hesitating. When he finally spoke, it was in a very quiet voice, barely more than a whisper. "What's going to happen to me now?"

Ryuu blinked in confusion. His brain was pleasantly numb but it was also sluggish and not exactly firing on all thrusters. "What are you on about?"

Gulping down a mouthful of drink, Hinata coughed and raised his head to stare fearfully at Ryuu. "After I killed all those people, I mean. Will there be a trial? Am I going to jail?"

Where the hell was Ennoshita? He ought to be the one answering these sorts of questions. "I think we'll _all_ be on trial if they catch us," Ryuu said uncertainly, slurring a little. "They think we're the ones who attacked Miyagi, r'member."

"But I'm the only one who actually did," Hinata said miserably, his eyes glistening as he looked away. "The rest of you are innocent."

_Shit, now I'm_ too _drunk for this,_ Ryuu reflected, sighing. "You mean that last shot you took? When your target exploded next to the colony?"

"Yeah," Hinata whispered.

He'd seen the flash — it was hard to miss — but it wasn't until Kuroo had shouted for them to stop that Ryuu had realised what happened. Even then, he hadn't found out that it had been Hinata's fault until later, when he'd been reviewing his Avenger's recordings of the battle.

Suga would know what to say. Sawamura would know what to say too. Hell, pretty much _anyone else_ would know what to say — even Noya would think of something. But Ryuu's mind was blank. It felt like a spotlight was shining on an empty stage in his skull, the audience waiting impatiently with one or two embarrassed coughs.

Hinata's head fell. "I was only trying to help," he said, his voice breaking. "I thought if I could stop them — even just distract them..."

Ryuu had no idea what was supposed to happen after something like that. Probably some sort of investigation or inquest? Or maybe in wartime they just accepted it as collateral damage. And Hinata hadn't actually shot the colony — he'd shot at someone attacking it who'd then blown up. It was a mistake, yeah, and he shouldn't have flew off on his own like that, but if Ryuu was a judge running a court-martial, he'd be blaming the people who attacked the colony, not the one of the guys trying to defend it.

So he said as much to Hinata. "And anyways," he added, "we've all got bigger things to worry about now. Chalk it up to experience an' jus' make sure it don't happen again."

Which, come to think of it, was almost exactly what Ennoshita had told _him_ after they'd gone over the footage of what happened to Inuoka. Ryuu sighed, rubbing his scalp with one hand.

Inuoka hadn't even realised who'd shot him. And when Ryuu told him, he hadn't been mad. He hadn't exactly been _pleased_ , either, but he'd waved off Ryuu's fumbling attempts to apologise. "As long as you weren't really trying to kill me," Inuoka had said, forcing a smile as he ushered them out of what had been Kageyama's cabin.

But Tora had nearly punched him later, when he found out. Ryuu would have taken it without complaint, too, feeling like it was the least he deserved. So he sort of understood how Hinata felt.

Hinata wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, his shoulders hunched and his expression wretched. "Y'know, it didn't even hit me until the funeral. I was so wrapped up in thinking about that explosion outside the colony that I forgot I killed those other pilots too. The ones I got with the Quickshot." He looked up with wide, vulnerable eyes. "How could I have just forgotten them, Tanaka? I took their lives. And I know I ought to feel bad about that, but it's like everything's washed out, like I don't even know what I'm feeling anymore."

Ryuu refilled Hinata's glass again, spilling a little onto the table; the bottle was almost empty now.

He thought back to _his_ first time. Which wasn't that long ago, come to think of it; only a year or so. The _Karasuno_ had been ordered to investigate a suspected Neo Zeon hideout on Luna, hidden in a deep crater. The Zeons were completely outnumbered — they only had four mobile suits, and old ones at that — but they'd refused to surrender. Ryuu had taken one down as it attacked Suga, killing it with two shots; it had exploded, just an ordinary explosion rather than a reactor detonation, and the debris had slowly rained down onto the surface. No escape pod ejection. No survivor. In that moment, he hadn't felt anything but satisfaction — one target down — and it was only later that he realised what it had meant.

And then Sawamura had taken him aside after they'd got back and spoken to him, gently and quietly.

With some effort, Ryuu dredged up the words Sawamura had used. "'Sometimes necessary but never desirable'," he said, his eyes unfocused. "That's what Sawamura once told me. He said to think about what might have happened if I hadn't pulled the trigger. Who might have died instead — maybe someone else on the team, maybe me, maybe an innocent civilian. And he said that protecting others isn't just about stopping the bad guys. It's also about, um, 'shouldering burdens on behalf of others'."

Hinata's expression suggested he wasn't explaining himself very well, so he gulped down some of his drink — shuddering with the heat of it — and cleared his throat to try again. "I didn't really understand everythin' either, but I think... Sort of like, it's a dirty job at times, but someone's gotta do it, and we're the ones who signed up for it, y'know? Better we get our hands dirty instead of someone else sufferin'. Like, you could give a civilian a gun and tell 'em to defend themselves, but it's not the same. They hadn't volunteered like we have. So if we can save 'em that guilt of having to fight back themselves, then that's part of the job." He shrugged and let his head drop back so he was staring at the ceiling. "For me, it was a Neo Zeon attacking Suga. If I hadn't took that shot, then he might have got Suga instead. And when Sawamura put it like that, it was a no-brainer. I still couldn't sleep properly for a week, mind, but I don't regret doing it."

"I think I get it," Hinata said, nodding slowly. There were tears in his eyes. "But the people on Miyagi..." He sniffed, blinking rapidly, and the tears broke loose, leaving shiny trails as they slid down his cheeks. "They didn't deserve it. I was supposed to be _protecting_ them. Maybe there were families... children..."

Ryuu got unsteadily to his feet and tottered around the table, dropping heavily onto the sofa next to Hinata and wrapping an arm around him. "Don't torture yourself like that, Shouyou," he said quietly, holding on tightly as Hinata struggled to contain his sobs. "Maybe it was just a patch of empty forest. It was halfway along the cylinder, yeah? Most people on Miyagi lived in New Sendai. The rest was just... I dunno, trees and plants and shit."

"Y-You don't know that!"

"Neither do you," Ryuu said, fighting back his own tears. "And it was an accident. Like you said, you were trying to protect everyone. If you're going to blame someone, blame the fuckers who attacked a space colony in the first place. That's on _them_ , not us."

"But —"

"Hinata, listen," Ryuu said, taking his shoulders and spinning him around in his seat so they were facing each other. "You messed up, I know. But shit happens in a battle. Hell, I even shot Inuoka by accident. I could have _killed_ him! But all we can do is own our mistakes and try not to make the same ones again, okay?" He shook his head as tears continued to stream down Hinata's face. "If you must, think of it like a debt, yeah? One that you'll have to repay. Make sure you save more people in future."

That seemed to get through to him. Hinata pulled free and drained his glass empty, choking on it; Ryuu patted him on the back a few times, and once Hinata could breathe again, he nodded firmly. "Alright," he said. "I won't forget my debt."

"Good," Ryuu said. He wasn't sure he'd handled it in the best way — someone else would probably have calmed him down without giving him some kind of weird life debt to worry about — but at least he'd stopped crying.

He got up and returned to his chair, wiping his own eyes dry, and then shared out the rest of the bottle between them. "Lemme tell you something else," he said quietly as Hinata sniffled and sipped at his glass. "I don't know what you and Kageyama are arguin' about, and maybe you don't want to hear this right now, but you two ought to be proud. Without you two and the Quickshot, I don't even want to think about what might have happened. You did good, okay?"

Hinata said nothing. His breath kept hitching and his eyes were all puffy, but he looked wrung out and drained rather than upset. Which wasn't surprising — he'd only been released from medbay a few hours ago, and he'd spent a good part of that standing at attention out in vacuum during the funeral. Poor kid was probably exhausted.

"Can you tell me some more stories?" Hinata said, taking another sip. "Happy ones, about Suga and Sawamura and Narita. To remember them by."

Ryuu gave him a sad smile and nodded. "Yeah," he sighed. "Yeah, I can do that."

 

* * *

 

It had taken nearly an entire day to stop the colony's spin. At one point Iwa had been so frustrated that he suggested all the mobile suits should fly out, grab on to something, and start thrusting in the opposite direction to put on the brakes themselves. And if Tooru had thought it might have worked, he would have agreed to it.

The delay was problematic because until they could bring the damaged colony under control, it was much harder to evacuate the Miyagi survivors from their emergency bunkers. With no air left in the cylinder and much of the utility tunnel network rendered impassable by damage — or simply missing — the only way to evacuate people was to dock shuttles with the outer hull and ferry people out directly. And that could only be done safely when the colony was at rest, not spinning round fast enough to fling people and debris out into space, with the jagged stumps of the three huge solar panels whizzing around like scythes.

The _Aobajohsai_ and _Dateko_ had done what they could. They'd surveyed the remains of the colony and made contact with as many clusters of survivors as possible, evacuating the worst hit wherever they could, but it was a drop in the bucket compared to what was needed. The last thing the survivors wanted to do was stay put and wait — they wanted to get out. But even if the utility tunnels had all been in working order, they were designed for maintenance rather than the transport of large volumes of frightened, traumatised people, many of whom were injured, and there was nowhere for them to go even if they all reached the spacedock unharmed. So keeping people from panicking had been the hardest task.

The mobile suits flew sortie after sortie to help out, patrolling the area in case of follow-up attacks, sealing what hull breaches they could, and providing search and rescue services for people who accidentally ended up adrift. The latter was the worst; most of the civilians who had been blown out into space were not wearing pressure suits. So by the time he'd let Iwa harangue him into stopping for the day, Tooru staggered back to his quarters exhausted, grouchy, and grief-stricken. It was no wonder that he awoke on the second day in a foul mood. A mood that had only soured further when Irihata put him on "liaison duty" to coordinate the arriving reinforcements because he was "good with people", meaning he couldn't escape from the chaos by hiding out in his mobile suit and instead spent the day running back and forth, trying to speak to one official or another, getting shouted at for things that he had no control over and often failing to secure assistance for things he _did_ have responsibility over.

On the one hand, he was glad that fresh help was arriving. They ranged from small transport craft from neighbouring colonies to luxurious passenger liners and well-equipped hospital ships, as well as more nearby warships, and they were all sorely needed.

On the other hand, someone had to coordinate them all, and herding cats did not even _begin_ to cover it.

Still, it wasn't a complete waste: he had learnt quite a lot of interesting information from talking to so many people (and afterwards, Tooru privately wondered whether that had been Irihata's true intention in the first place). For instance, he'd discovered that the _Karasuno_ had been at Miyagi for around two weeks, that the _Nekoma_ had been there even longer, and that not everyone on Miyagi had been happy about their presence there. Apparently someone had even tried to assassinate Miyagi's governor.

He'd reported it all to Irihata, of course, save for a few minor facts that he wanted to mull over himself first. His reward for his hard work was to be informed that the _Shiratorizawa_ was en route with a number of additional aid vessels and would be "assuming overall command of the situation until further notice".

And if there was one person in the universe that Tooru hated more than Tobio Kageyama, it was Wakatoshi fucking Ushijima, commander of the _Shiratorizawa_ 's mobile suit team and the first plank of wood to ever successfully pass as human.

Consequently, by the third day, Tooru was in a towering rage. Most of his team knew to give him a wide berth and even Mizoguchi steered clear, but Iwa was inherently immune (and Tooru knew he'd only be repaid tenfold if he lashed out at Iwa, no matter how furious he was) and the Dateko crowd didn't know better. He spent most of the morning aboard the _Diligent_ , by far the most useful ship that had shown up to help; it was an enormous mobile repair & resupply ship, basically a floating spacedock, which took up station next to the wrecked colony and acted as transport hub. Small shuttles would ferry people from Miyagi to the _Diligent_ , where survivors could receive supplies and medical aid, and then larger ships could dock and evacuate them directly afterwards.

The only problem was that the _Diligent_ was designed to repair other ships, not evacuate hundreds of thousands of people, and so its limited crew consisted mostly of engineers. As a result, hundreds of crew from other ships had been transferred over to help — medics, military personnel, civilian volunteers, even religious figures like priests and monks — and Tooru, inevitably, had been drafted in to oversee them all. After several hours of dealing with a seemingly endless stream of complaints, he'd retreated to a cargo bay to oversee distribution of some fresh supplies.

Which is where Moniwa found him just before lunch, stalking around the cargo bay and bullying the recalcitrant crew into doing their damn jobs properly.

"Hello, Oikawa," he called. "Can I help at all?"

Tooru had his hands on his hips, glaring at a quintet of grumbling cargo workers he'd basically conscripted to handle the incoming supplies. Iwa was lounging nearby with a rifle hanging from his shoulder, munching on an apple; he'd unilaterally taken it upon himself to act as Tooru's bodyguard (and keeper, reining him in when he lost his temper). As much as Tooru resented the implication that he _needed_ a bodyguard (or keeper), Iwa had proven unexpectedly useful; it turns out that having a strong, surly man with a rifle at your side can intimidate people into complying when polite diplomacy, righteous authority, and even sly manipulation failed.

He turned at Moniwa's greeting, trying not to let his sinking feeling show on his face. He was far too busy to babysit an injured pilot, no matter how earnestly Moniwa wanted to be helpful. Tooru suspected his earnestness was partly because he wanted to make up for being more of a burden than a boon since the battle, but then again Moniwa was generally eager to please the rest of the time too.

"Moniwa, welcome to the madhouse," he said, looking him up and down critically. Moniwa had been lucky to survive when Karasuno had focused their fire on him; his mobile suit was effectively a write off. But Moniwa himself hadn't come through unscathed either, as evidenced by the way he was limping gingerly towards them, burn dressings bulging under his uniform, with one arm holding onto a bored-looking Futakuchi for support. Personally Tooru would never allow himself to be seen in such a vulnerable state, not even with Iwa, and he couldn't help but frown. "Should you be up and about yet?"

"No, he shouldn't," Futakuchi said flatly, with something close to genuine concern lurking in his tone.

"I'm a lot better off than many of the civilians!" Moniwa protested. "And our medical personnel are badly needed elsewhere." He peered around with interest. "I hear we're getting reinforcements and fresh supplies?"

"The _Shiratorizawa_ is riding out of the sunrise to save the day," Tooru said, his smile razor sharp, "ready to take credit for everything at the last minute, as usual."

"Oh," Moniwa said, taken aback. "Um, I'm assuming you have prior history with them?"

Prior history was one way to describe it. A 'lifelong vendetta' was a more accurate term. He had just opened his mouth to explain when Iwa cut him off.

"Don't get him started," he said, shooting Tooru a quelling glare. He took swallowed another bite of his apple and added, "It's a long story."

"Is there any word on the _Karasuno_?" Futakuchi asked, clearly trying to change the subject. Something was smouldering in his eyes, however, and Tooru had to give him a mental tip of the head in respect to a kindred spirit; here was someone else who knew how to hold a proper grudge.

"Not since we lost them," Tooru said bitterly. "I expect they're hiding out in the junk of the Shoal Zone with all the other rats."

It was the logical hiding place. One of the biggest battles of the One Year War had taken place there and left an enormous patch of wreckage drifting through space; some of it had been salvaged, but most of it had merely been towed out of the way of the rebuilt colonies of Side 4 and left to rot. Over the years it had become a haven for people who didn't want to be found — and who didn't mind living off garbage — and it really needed removing. Instead, the government had declared the whole mess a mass war grave and memorial, neatly saving themselves the cost of clearing it up.

Futakuchi grimaced. "So when do we go in after them? We're not hanging around here forever, are we?"

"Futakuchi!" Moniwa complained. "These people _need_ us!"

"We're soldiers, not doctors," Futakuchi replied, with a level of condescension that Tooru would never have permitted in his team. Well, from anyone but Iwa. Or maybe Makki and Mattsun, if he was feeling generous that day.

"Sadly, it won't be up to us," Tooru said bitterly. "The _Shiratorizawa_ will be taking command, and in my experience they like to do things by the book. They're not exactly imaginative and they'll probably insist on searching the entire Earth sphere, one colony at a time."

Iwa finished his apple, eating the whole thing, even the core. Tooru watched with a mixture of disgust and grudging respect. "We'll get our chance," Iwa promised darkly. "They've got nowhere else to run now."

That was certainly true. In a rare moment of unity, _both_ sides of the civil war had unilaterally condemned what was rapidly becoming known as the 'Miyagi Massacre'. Karasuno, as the perpetrators of said massacre, had been disavowed by literally everybody and they were unlikely to find friends with which to shelter anywhere in the Earth sphere. Iwa was right; it was only a matter of time before someone gave up their location or a lack of supplies forced them out of hiding.

And when that happened, Tooru and the _Aobajohsai_ would be waiting. The _Karasuno_ would not escape them a third time.

Moniwa shuffled uncomfortably. Futakuchi interpreted it as pain from his wounds and rummaged around in his pockets until he pulled out a bottle of pills. "Here."

"No, it's not that," Moniwa said, though after a few seconds of hesitation, he took a pill anyway, gulping it down with a grimace. "I was just thinking." He limped closer, until he was just a couple of paces away from Tooru, and lowered his voice. "Why do you think they did it, Oikawa? I mean, I heard that Miyagi's governor was the grandfather of _Karasuno_ 's captain. They must have had a reason, right?"

Futakuchi reared back, frowning with betrayal. "A reason? Who gives a shit what their reason was? We all saw what happened. They're not just rebels, they're _murderers_. Psychos, probably." A few seconds after his outburst, he blinked and added a belated "Sir."

Moniwa sighed, shooting him a weary look. "Use your brain for once, Futakuchi." Then he turned to Tooru, an unusually intelligent expression on his face. "There wasn't much else for me to do while I was sitting around in medbay," he said. "So I was re-watching the battle, checking data from Miyagi, anything to stave off the boredom. It's a bit suspicious, don't you think, that Miyagi's central computer system got vaporised? Sure, maybe a stray hit might get the main core, but all the backups too?" With some difficulty, he folded his arms. "I reviewed the data from our mobile suits, too."

Tooru narrowed his eyes dangerously. "What are you getting at, Moniwa?"

With the heightened situational awareness that Tooru had honed during his years as a mobile suit pilot and combat coordinator, he was aware of several things happening at once. Firstly, the cargoworkers were slacking off now that they weren't being directly observed, and in fact one had slipped away to take his break early. Secondly, Iwa had tensed and adjusted his posture, poised to intervene in whichever way he thought necessary. Thirdly, Futakuchi was frowning as he looked between Tooru and his commander, the hamster-powered wheels in his brain apparently in motion at last. Tooru knew all of this without taking his eyes off Moniwa's for even a moment.

Moniwa backed down first, of course. He shrank back, glancing around nervously. "Look," he said nervously, "I'm not claiming that Karasuno are innocent. What footage I _could_ dig up clearly shows Karasuno mobile suits attacking the colony. But there are no surviving sensor logs of the whole battle, no indication of what triggered the fight in the first place. Don't you think that's weird?"

"Why is it weird?" Futakuchi asked. "If Miyagi's governor was related to the captain of the _Karasuno_ , maybe he wiped the logs to protect his family."

Moniwa was getting frustrated. "Futakuchi, think about it. If the _Karasuno_ wanted to attack the colony, why would its governor — who died in the attack — want to help them by covering up the evidence of it?" Turning back to Tooru, he added, "I read your report, Oikawa. I _know_ you left things out. Why? What do you suspect is going on?" For the first time, he showed signs of genuine anger. "I know you don't think much of me, but if there's something going on that could put my team at risk, I deserve to know."

A surge of white-hot rage temporarily rendered Tooru incapable of speech.

For _three days_ he'd been toiling to save as many of the people of Miyagi as he could. All the time, he had to live with the knowledge that if they'd arrived just a little sooner — an hour earlier, even just a few minutes — he might have been able to prevent the entire tragedy in the first place. He'd seen the exhausted, shell-shocked survivors pass through the _Diligent_ 's landing bays. He'd spoken to a few, offered what hollow words of comfort he could until he couldn't bear the guilt anymore.

The _Karasuno_ was responsible. Tooru had _seen_ their mobile suits attacking the colony. He'd personally sealed up several of the breaches they'd ripped in the colony's hull. He'd fished frozen bodies out of the void.

Never mind what Ushijima and the _Shiratorizawa_ said: Tooru intended to be the one to make _Karasuno_ pay dearly for their crimes.

And now this spineless ferret had the _audacity_ —

"Come with me," he said, grabbing Moniwa's arm and virtually dragging him out of the cargo bay. He stalked down the corridor, trailed by Iwa and Futakuchi, and found an empty machining workshop nearby. It was empty — the crew had more important things to do than manufacture spare parts — and therefore free of any curious ears, which was the only thing that mattered. Tooru made sure to check the corridor was empty before closing the door behind them. Then he folded his arms and studied the two Dateko pilots, making sure to stand between them and the only way out.

Iwa rolled his eyes at his precautions but settled into position by the hatch as well.

"Let me make one thing _exceedingly clear_ ," he hissed. "Karasuno attacked and massacred thousands of innocent people and they _will_ be punished for it. I will make sure of it. Now, be _very careful_ when choosing your next words, Moniwa."

Moniwa was rubbing at his arm, frowning uncertainly.

"Will someone please fill me in?" Futakuchi complained lazily, though his stiffened posture and wary expression were at odds with his laid-back tone.

Suddenly, Tooru realised exactly why Moniwa had dragged Futakuchi along: he wasn't there merely as someone convenient to lean on as Moniwa hobbled along, nor was he there to keep him out of any trouble he might (likely) cause if unsupervised. He was there because he was one of the smartest pilots in Moniwa's team — which still wasn't saying much — and because Moniwa trusted him.

Maybe Tooru had underestimated Moniwa after all.

"Futakuchi," Moniwa said slowly, without taking his eyes off Tooru, "don't you think it's strange that there's basically no footage of the battle itself except what we recorded ourselves once we arrived? And I don't know what Oikawa's Monarch told him, but for a few seconds, just as my Conductor got into range, it looked like Karasuno were fighting amongst _themselves_. And think about it: if the _Karasuno_ and _Nekoma_ were fighting each other, why did the _Nekoma_ survivors retreat to the _Karasuno_? And why the hell were all the mobile suits suffering reactor explosions?"

"It is a bit weird," Futakuchi admittedly reluctantly, half-heartedly inspecting a lathe; he was trying to act casual, but there was clear tension in his back and shoulders.

"So?" Tooru asked, deathly calm. "What are you suggesting, Moniwa? That there's some kind of cover-up?"

Moniwa flushed, glancing to Futakuchi for reassurance. "I don't know!" he burst out, frustrated. "But I know I don't like it. Something fishy's going on." He shook his head and gave Tooru a hard look. "What _did_ you see on your sensors? You never mentioned anything in your report. In fact, if anything I'd say you were careful to talk around it."

This time it was Tooru's turn to break eye contact, looking to Iwa instead; Iwa stared back, forehead creasing in confusion. Tooru hadn't even told him what he'd seen. What would be the point? It had only been for a few seconds, and it hadn't been clear anyway. Mentioning it in his report would have just introduced unnecessary confusion at a time when everyone else was seeing firmly in black and white.

Moniwa wasn't wrong, exactly; there were things that didn't seem to make sense. But there was a time and a place to start asking questions, and doing so under the huge spotlight of the Miyagi Massacre, especially in the middle of a civil war where loyalty was always under question, was a good way to wind up in a cell... or dead.

Besides, the best way to _answer_ those questions was to catch the _Karasuno_ , so they could question them and find out what the hell had possessed them all.

"There were some irregularities," he admitted, scratching one ear. "But battles can be confusing at the best of times, and doubly so in a civil war. I know what I _did_ see, however: the Karasuno's mobile suits attacking Miyagi and escaping. So the only thing we need to worry about is hunting them down and bringing them to justice."

"Yes, but _why_ did they attack?" Moniwa insisted, almost begging. "It doesn't make any sense to me!"

"Once we catch them, you can ask them all the questions you want," Tooru said impatiently.

"The theory I heard is that the _Karasuno_ was probably holding Miyagi hostage, threatening the colony unless it gave them supplies and finished off their refit," Futakuchi said, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he continued to wander around the workshop. "But if the Governor was working with them, maybe it was more of a power grab? Maybe the colonists wanted to side with us so the Governor was using the threat of the _Karasuno_ to keep them in line."

Iwa snorted. "Didn't work out very well for him, did it? The Governor's dead."

"Okay, so maybe there was an argument with the other ship, the _Nekoma,"_ Futakuchi said, frowning. "Maybe they'd had enough and couldn't stomach it anymore. But the _Karasuno_ wouldn't let them leave in case they gave away their position, so they had to fight their way out."

"So why attack the colony?" Iwa said.

Futakuchi paused, deflating. "Yeah, okay, maybe I need to give that one more thought."

Moniwa had been watching Tooru the whole time. "I'm right, aren't I, Oikawa?" he said softly. "You think something strange is going on too, I can see it in your face. Will you help me investigate?"

That was enough. If Moniwa wanted to dig his own grave, that was his business, but Tooru had no intention of being buried alongside him.

This had to end now.

Tooru gave him a cold smile, showing teeth. "You do realise that this could all be construed as treason, don't you, Moniwa? The crew of the _Karasuno_ have been declared enemies of the state — doubly so, now. Should you really be thinking about such dangerous things?"

Futakuchi bristled. "Are you _threatening_ us? _"_

"I'm saying you're threatening yourselves," Tooru replied, rolling his shoulders in a languid shrug. "I strongly suggest you stop before you say something you regret."

"So that's all you've got to say, is it?" Moniwa said, his expression hardening into one of poorly-concealed contempt. "I guess I was wrong about you after all."

Tooru's eyes widened in shock despite his best efforts to control his expression. "Excuse me...?"

"I'd heard the rumours about you, of course," Moniwa continued, all but spitting out the words. "That you're ambitious, that you play politics, that you'd step over your mother's corpse if it led to a promotion. But I'd also hoped you might care about your team more, that you wouldn't put them at risk purely for the sake of your career. Like, say, sending them into battle against an enemy with unknown motivations and unknown capabilities just because asking questions is politically _inconvenient_ for you."

Okay, now _that_ stung. Tooru straightened, narrowing his eyes and dropping any pretence of friendliness. The temperature in the room had seemingly dropped about ten degrees in as many seconds and Tooru made sure his tone was even frostier. "You wouldn't be _sympathetic_ towards the _Karasuno_ , would you, Moniwa?" he said, very softly. "Maybe I should be having a word with Captain Oiwake about _you_."

Moniwa trembled with fear and anger, facing down Oikawa like a nervous gazelle standing up to a lion. Futakuchi had apparently only just realised that Tooru and Iwa were blocking the way out and was scanning the room for anything he might use as a weapon without trying to be too obvious about it. Iwa for his part remained motionless, his rifle still slung over his shoulder, but he was on guard and watching the Dateko pilots closely.

"I'm not saying _Karasuno_ are innocent, of course I'm not," Moniwa said, though his attempt to sound confident was undermined by the tremor in his voice. "And I don't appreciate being threatened. Especially as _you're_ the one who omitted potentially important facts from your report, Oikawa. Maybe _I_ should be talking to _your_ captain about that?"

Tooru vowed never to underestimate this man again, mentally re-categorising him from 'mostly harmless' to 'stupid enough to be dangerous'. "You really don't want to make an enemy of me, Moniwa."

"I'm not trying to antagonise you," Moniwa said, exasperated. "I was asking for your _help_. But if you're willing to bury your head in the sand and stick to the official line, even if it means going up unprepared against a Karasuno that's already proven way more dangerous than we expected, then fine. We can go our separate ways and pretend this conversation never happened. I'll investigate on my own and keep any findings to myself. But please don't threaten me again when _I'm_ the one with proof you lied and you've got nothing on me. Just because I don't like playing politics doesn't mean I _can't_ play politics when I have to."

Iwa let out an amused grunt. "He's got you there."

Tooru shot him a sour look. "Oh please." He turned back to Moniwa, pulling his datapad out of his pocket with a thin smile and holding it up where the audio recording app would be clearly visible; he'd pressed record as soon as they'd left the cargo bay.

The rapid and immediate draining of blood from Moniwa's face was immensely gratifying, as was the stream of curses from Futakuchi.

"Don't even think about it," Iwa snapped, unslinging the rifle as Futakuchi took a couple of rapid steps in his direction. "Don't be an idiot." He frowned at Tooru uncertainly. "And that goes for you, too."

"To be clear," Tooru said, injecting cold steel into his voice, "the only thing I omitted from my report was the initial, confused sensor readings that showed the Rebels fighting amongst themselves. Who knows why? It doesn't matter. Perhaps one or two of them retained some small shred of conscience and tried to stop the rest from massacring half of Miyagi. I don't really care either way. What matters is bringing the murderers to justice. Muddying the waters with wild speculation helps nobody."

Beneath his boiling rage, some vocal part of Tooru — that reptilian part that valued self-preservation above all else — recognised that Moniwa now represented a serious threat. Recording or no, in the current climate of distrust even a baseless accusation could lead to severe consequences. If Moniwa kept asking questions, even if he did as he said and kept Tooru out of it, he could end up implicating everyone else around him through sheer incompetence.

So, reluctantly, Tooru tuned out the angry voice in his head demanding that he get Iwa to shoot them both and dump their bodies out of the nearest airlock — because who would notice a couple more frozen bodies floating amongst the debris around Miyagi? — and forced himself to think of how to get out of this situation without anyone else finding out about it.

Moniwa looked utterly defeated, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped; Futakuchi very much did _not_ look defeated, grinding his teeth angrily with his eyes locked onto Iwa's rifle.

If only Moniwa hadn't brought Futakuchi. He was much more unpredictable and much harder to cow. But then that was probably exactly _why_ Moniwa had brought him.

Trying to breathe out as much of his anger as possible, Tooru forced a more neutral expression onto his face. Then with the datapad held high so they could see, he stopped the recording and lowered his hand.

"Listen to me, both of you," he said to them. "You too, Iwa." He paused, folding his arms and considering how best to convince the others to stay quiet. "Let me ask you this, Moniwa. Let's say you're correct and that there is something else at play here. Maybe the _Karasuno_ was on some sort of covert operation and whoever sent them wanted plausible denial. Who do you think that operation might have been targeted at?"

Moniwa narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Well, Miyagi, of course." But then he frowned, thinking about it further. "And the Rebels in general, I suppose. They're taking most of the blame, since the _Karasuno_ and _Nekoma_ were both Rebel ships. Denying it so strenuously is only making them look more guilty."

"Okay," Tooru said, nodding slowly. "So follow that train of thought. Who stands to gain the most by discrediting the Rebels?"

It only took him a second. Tooru could pinpoint the moment of realisation by the way Moniwa's jaw dropped.

"Us," he whispered. "The Loyalists. The Junta, even."

Both Iwa and Futakuchi swore loudly, and Futakuchi kicked the nearest workbench.

"Or a faction within them," Tooru agreed grimly.

"But that just means it's even _more_ important to investigate! We should go to our captains, let them know what—"

"No."

Moniwa stopped, glaring at him. "Come _on,_ Oikawa. You've basically just admitted you think something is going on. Don't you want to know who really attacked Miyagi?"

"I already _know_ who carried out the attack: the _Karasuno_. I _saw_ them. You did too." Tooru gave him a pointed look. "And I'm not stupid enough to draw any more attention to myself when we're already being criticised for being too late to stop the massacre."

He sighed, brushing his hair with his fingers.

"You weren't wrong about one thing, Moniwa. I _do_ care for my team. And I know you care for yours. So I'll say this only once: you need to forget about all of this. _All_ of it. No more digging into logs. No more asking awkward questions. I'll promise to pretend I never heard any of it as long as you promise never to speak of it again. Because if you _do_ , I'll be forced to take measures to protect my team — and myself — from _you_. Understand?"

Moniwa held his harsh gaze for much longer than Tooru expected, as though searching for something. Finally, after several seconds, he sighed and nodded.

"I understand," he said bitterly.

Now to deal with the other troublemaker. "Futakuchi," Tooru said, meeting Futakuchi's rebellious glare head-on. "I want you to promise me something as well. When we find the _Karasuno_ — and we _will_ find them — can I rely on you? You're not going to let them get away again, are you? After what they did?"

"Hell no," Futakuchi snapped, his whole body stiffening with offence; he looked as though Tooru had just slapped him. But then he turned to Moniwa, suddenly unsure. "But..."

"No, he's right, Futakuchi," Moniwa said, more firmly now. "He's right, as usual. We have our duty. All that remains is to carry it out."

For a moment, seeing how miserable and weary he looked, Tooru almost felt sorry for him. But Moniwa had brought this on himself.

"Good," he said. "It's settled then."

When Moniwa met his eyes, Tooru was surprised to see a glimmer of hatred there amidst the grim resignation.

"Yes," Moniwa agreed. "It's settled."

 


	18. Illusionary Hero

"What do you mean you haven't started yet?" Tetsurou exclaimed. He dug his fingers into his hair and leaned over the computer technician's shoulder to inspect her screen. "It's been nearly a week!"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Commander," she said, leaning away. "But as we keep telling you, we've been busy with higher priority tasks."

Tetsurou narrowed his eyes. "And giving my people basic access rights for the ship's computer systems isn't a _high priority task_?"

It had been like this all day. All _week_ , even. When the _Nekoma_ had been destroyed and most of her survivors had been taken aboard the _Karasuno_ , he'd somehow found himself the highest ranking Nekoma officer remaining. Which left him responsible for 105 of his crewmates, whether he wanted to be or not. He couldn't even remember all of their names, try as he might.

And while the _Karasuno_ had welcomed them, the ship and its crew had been so busy dealing with immediate problems — like treating all of the injured, making emergency repairs to the most damaged systems, and finding somewhere safe for the ship to hide — that they hadn't had time to deal with the Nekoma crew beyond providing them with living space. Which left a hundred Nekoma crewmembers with all manner of problems, and as their de facto leader and representative, all of them were complaining to Tetsurou.

Tetsurou had tried his best, he really had, but there was only one of him and he was not omnipotent. The barrage of complaints had sapped at his energy and patience until he was little more than a desiccated husk of frustration. He'd worked at it non-stop ever since his release from medbay, stopping only for the funeral service, but for every issue he solved, four more seemed to take its place.

None of the problems were enormous individually, but the sheer volume of them was. And as their problems went unresolved, it led to frictions between Nekoma and Karasuno crewmembers, which led to more problems, and so on. It didn't help that a significant number of the _Karasuno_ 's crew had had to double up to provide enough living space for the newcomers, or that Captain Ukai had initiated rationing of their food supplies — factors that negatively affected just about everybody in some way at a time when morale was already rock bottom. And on top of all that there was the lingering shock and grief from the battle itself.

Kenma had suggested, probably correctly, that the biggest issue was boredom. The Nekoma crew had all pitched in during the first few days to help with repairs, tend to the wounded, and various other urgent tasks, but now that the ship was finally starting to return to normal operation, integrating them into day-to-day work schedules of the various departments around the ship was non-trivial. Even with the help of the most mobile members of his team, it had taken Tetsurou an entire day just to get a full, accurate census of the Nekoma people aboard and what skills they had, and then it had taken another day working with Takeda — himself phenomenally busy and constantly being interrupted — to try to allocate them to appropriate jobs.

And oh, the flak he'd taken for that! He'd never expected it to be so difficult. The _Karasuno_ and the _Nekoma_ had been sister ships, after all, and most of the systems aboard both had been similar if not identical, albeit the _Karasuno_ 's incomplete refit meant some of the older systems that had long been upgraded aboard the _Nekoma_ were still in use. And at first it had seemed simple: the _Karasuno_ had taken a number of casualties herself, so where possible they'd replaced them with people who held the equivalent role aboard the _Nekoma_.

That only accounted for perhaps a dozen people.

It was much, much harder to find jobs for the rest. For example, _Karasuno_ 's mobile suit technicians had been hit hard when the hangar took damage, but the same had been true of the _Nekoma_ , so they were short there. Whereas other departments — especially systems operators who typically worked at safer stations deep in the ship — had suffered few if any casualties, meaning that there were now too many of them relative to the number of jobs that needed doing. They'd spent a long time trying to fit square pegs in round holes, interviewing crewmen to see if they had sufficient knowledge to perform other roles, talking to existing department chiefs to see if they could shuffle people around to accommodate potentially unskilled workers, and so on.

And even after all that, they were still left with about fifty people, because there were simply more Nekoma survivors than Karasuno casualties. That was a good thing, of course — the more people alive the better — but it led to awkward compromises and unfortunate assignments, like people having to share jobs, or skilled specialists ending up on cooking or cleaning duties and the like.

For now, the gratitude the Nekoma crew felt was keeping them in line, but a lot of resentment was brewing away in the background on both sides and Tetsurou was desperate to nip it in the bud before it got any worse.

Hence his day so far, traipsing around the ship in a state of constant exhaustion while trying to deal with as many of the minor issues as possible in the hopes of appeasing people. He felt like a grovelling, zombified Sisyphus, doomed to beg the same people for the same thing over and over... at least until he collapsed from sleep deprivation.

"I realise it's important, sir," the computer technician said, frustration bleeding through into her tone. "But setting up a hundred new accounts will take a long time and we just haven't had chance yet."

Tetsurou groaned, stepping back and shaking his head wearily. It was the same wherever he went, like being trapped in a cage made of apologies.

Kenma had been accompanying him ever since dragging Tetsurou away from his tasks to eat some lunch. After arguing unsuccessfully for Tetsurou to take a break, Kenma had followed him around like a sulky ghost, spending most of the time with his nose buried in a datapad as usual. Now, however, he finally came to Tetsurou's rescue.

"Can't you grant access to someone in Nekoma who can then allocate the necessary permissions for everyone else?" he asked the harried computer technician. "That way you can get on with whatever you need to do but we're not locked out." He paused for a second. "I can even do it myself if necessary."

Why hadn't Tetsurou thought of that? He mouthed 'thank you' at Kenma from above the technician's head and smiled. Though when Kenma ducked his head and avoided Tetsurou's eyes, Tetsurou felt his gratitude dim: Kenma was scheming again.

"That would be a massive security risk, sir," the technician protested. "I couldn't authorise that. I'd have to talk to my supervisor."

Tetsurou put a mental pin in Kenma's suspicious behaviour — he'd come back to that when he had time — and returned to the matter at hand. "So it's possible?"

She shrugged. "Sure, it's _possible_. But like I said —"

Clapping her on the shoulder, Tetsurou graced her with a broad smile. "Let me worry about that. I'll talk to Commander Takeda and get him to authorise it. Then you grant Lieutenant Kenma Kozume here the necessary permissions and he can handle the rest. Acceptable?"

She frowned, but after a moment's hesitation, she nodded. "Yes sir."

After making note of her name tag, Tetsurou hauled himself out of the dimly lit computer core and stopped in the corridor outside to take a breather. Kenma floated after him, his attention back on his datapad.

"Let me guess," Tetsurou murmured, "you're secretly planning to take over the ship and seizing control of the ship's computer is the first step in your nefarious plan."

"I don't know what you're talking about." But the pink tinge to his cheeks and the way he hunched over slightly more told Tetsurou everything he needed to know.

"Kenma..." He sighed and massaged his temples. The headache that had been building all day was getting worse but he'd already used all the painkillers the medics had given him. "Please. Things are already fraught enough, don't you think?"

"Give me some credit, Kuro," Kenma shot back with a brief glare. "It was the logical solution to the problem at hand. The fact that it will let me see if I can dig up any extra information about the battle is only a bonus."

Tetsurou couldn't find the energy to chastise him, or even be surprised really. A bored Kenma was something he tried to avoid at all costs, and Kenma plus computers was a very dangerous combination. It didn't matter whether there were regulations, or rules, or even laws: if Kenma thought the challenge to be sufficiently interesting, and he wasn't otherwise occupied, he'd find a way to gain access somehow. The fact that it enabled his somewhat disturbing hobby of scooping up secrets, which he then proceeded to hoard like a dragon craved gold, just made it worse.

"Come on," he said, giving up on the matter for the time being. "We can visit Takeda next."

At least Tetsurou was not without allies. Commander Takeda had bent over backwards to help, and when Tetsurou apologetically interrupted him to raise the computer access issue, he promised to get on it (almost) immediately.

So as he crossed another item off his extremely long mental to-do list, his spirits rose. They'd figure it all out eventually, get the Nekoma crew settled in, and then...

He'd been trying not to think to much about the "then" part.

Their next stop was supposed to be the reactor room, where the _Karasuno_ 's chief engineer was refusing to let any "clumsy Nekomas" near her precious reactors, but when Tetsurou's datapad started vibrating, he sighed and slumped against the nearest bulkhead to answer it.

"This is Kuroo," he said after stifling a yawn so wide it made his jaw creak. "What's up?"

" _Um, I think you better get over to the hangar, sir_ ," Yamamoto said.

"What? Why?"

A little earlier, Tetsurou had given Yamamoto the task of liaising with Chief Takinoue, at least partly on the basis that Yamamoto was someone else who was best kept occupied rather than allowed to become bored. But every pilot liked their mobile suit to be set up in a specific way, and while Takinoue undoubtedly knew his job, he didn't know how Nekoma's pilots liked to configure things. Tetsurou had hoped Yamamoto could fill him in.

" _Well, I got into a bit of an argument, but then Yaku showed up—"_

_"_ Wait. Yaku? He's supposed to be in medbay!"

" _That's what I said! But —"_

Tetsurou massaged his temples again, scowling. _"_ Save it. I'm on my way there now."

Clearly, somewhere along the line, Yamamoto's tact and diplomacy had failed him. In hindsight, maybe Fukunaga would have been a better choice for the job, but Tetsurou had taken him off duty and told him to rest after he'd developed an infection. Although if Yaku was anything to go by, Tetsurou might need to start handcuffing his sick pilots to their beds to keep them from wandering around.

"Do we have any handcuffs aboard?" he asked Kenma, earning a raised eyebrow from a passing crewman.

Kenma gave him a worried look. "Handcuffs?"

"Never mind."

The port hangar was as hectic as always, especially now they were sending out regular patrols again. The clank of machinery and the familiar stink of oil and metal filled the chilly air, but instead of the brawl Tetsurou half expected, he found Yaku chatting amiably with Takinoue while a fuming Yamamoto looked on.

"Aren't you supposed to be in medbay?" Tetsurou asked, coming up behind Yaku. "You nearly died, remember?"

Yaku raised an eyebrow. "I can't die. I'm immortal," he said, before turning back to Takinoue.

Sensing he wasn't going to get much more out of Yaku, Tetsurou beckoned for Yamamoto to follow and they moved a few steps away. "Please explain, Yamamoto, before I lose my mind."

Yamamoto wasn't much happier about it than Tetsurou was. "He turned up about ten minutes ago," he said, crossing his arms and shooting Yaku a sour look. "Claims he's fit as a fiddle."

"Riiight..." In his defence, Yaku did look better than he had a couple of days ago, but that was mainly because a couple of days ago he'd been unconscious in a medbay bed with an alarming amount of wires, tubes, and bandages covering him. Even so, Tetsurou strongly suspected he'd fold like a house of cards if he tried to enter one of the gravity blocks, and had Yaku not been wearing his unfastened uniform tunic loosely over a medical gown, Tetsurou knew he'd be able to see more bandages and half-healed scars.

Yaku was yet another member of his team who handled boredom poorly. Then there was Lev, and Inuoka, and even Fukunaga got weird (well, weirder) when he had nothing to occupy himself. Tetsurou sighed, now wondering just what trouble they were all getting up to. Oh well; at least he could trust Shibayama.

And Kai. But Kai was gone now.

Having finished his discussion with Takinoue, Yaku carefully strode over. He looked ridiculous wearing magnetic boots with a medical gown. "I hope you're wearing something under that," Tetsurou said in lieu of a proper greeting.

Yaku reached down and threatened to lift up his robe. "Wanna check?"

"No! No, that won't be necessary," Tetsurou said quickly, holding one hand up in protest and covering his eyes with the other. After he peeked between his fingers to make sure the coast was clear, he added, "Did you sort things with the Chief?"

"Yes, I think so," Yaku agreed. "There was a bit of compromise involved — he simply doesn't have the resources to do everything the way we'd like — but he promised to try his best." He jabbed Yamamoto in the side, making him yelp. "I can't believe you sent this lump to talk things out. He could start an argument in an empty room."

If Yaku was back to random acts of casual violence, then he really had to be feeling better. Although up close, he did look unusually pale and had a sheen of sweat on his forehead, despite the cool air in the hangar; Tetsurou decided he would send him back to medbay after this, no matter how much he protested. "Yes. I'll have to find some other way to keep him out of trouble now," he said.

"Look, all I did was explain how we did things aboard the _Nekoma_ —"

"— and insist he did them exactly the same," Yaku finished. "Yeah. You're gonna have to be more flexible now, Tora."

Yamamoto had the good grace to look contrite. "Sorry. I'm probably just in a bad mood because I'm hungry."

"So is everyone else," Tetsurou pointed out. "Better get used to it."

The _Karasuno_ was designed for a crew of about 300. It wasn't that many for a ship of her size, mainly thanks to a high degree of automation, and her life support systems could handle twice that without much problem — at least when they were fully operational. Now, however, the water recycling and air filtration systems were both suffering periodic malfunctions thanks to battle damage, and the ship's food stores were having to be stretched to accommodate an extra hundred people with no prospect of resupply any time soon. Things weren't critical, yet, but they were... uncomfortable.

"Maybe we'd be better off on our own somewhere," Kenma said without looking up from his datapad.

There was a long, shocked silence in the wake of this suggestion.

"What are we supposed to do, get out and walk to the nearest colony?" Yamamoto asked.

Yaku chuckled uncertainly. "Yeah, that's not a very funny joke, Kenma."

Tetsurou was tempted to press his hand against Kenma's forehead to make sure he wasn't feverish and delirious. "Kenma," he said slowly, "what are you talking about?"

Kenma finally raised his head, taking in their worried stares. "I'm joking," he said, without cracking even a hint of a smile. "Though I have always wanted to visit Jupiter."

Yamamoto gave him a not-so-gentle punch to the shoulder. "You almost had me, you jerk!"

After a long sigh of relief, Yaku grinned. "Hell, if we're dreaming, why stop at Jupiter? Let's take the _Karasuno_ and fly off to another star! We can be the first humans to colonise the galaxy..."

Tetsurou had stopped breathing the moment Kenma looked up. Some part of his heart had flash-frozen when he'd seen the look in Kenma's eyes.

Every so often, Kenma truly scared him. Not scared on his behalf — that was pretty much Tetsurou's default state of being, after having spent most of his formative years worrying after his sickly little step-brother. No, on rare occasions Tetsurou would find himself scared _of_ Kenma. There was something cold and dark inside him, hidden deep, buried beneath layer upon layer of protective apathy. But now and then he'd catch a glimpse of it; it felt like staring into a fathomless black void. At those times Tetsurou would wonder what Kenma was truly capable of, if only he was sufficiently motivated.

A bored Kenma was dangerous. A _determined_ Kenma might well prove devastating.

Tetsurou's lungs lurched back into motion with a cough. He turned it into a laugh and pasted a smile back on his face, desperately pretending that he hadn't just heard Kenma seriously suggest running away. "Anyway," he said, "what are you even doing here, Yaku? Do you have some sort of telepathic warning signal that tells you when one of our pilots is causing trouble?" He leaned in conspiratorially, wrapping an arm lightly across his shoulders. "If so, can you teach it to me too?"

Yaku laughed. "I wish!" he said cheerfully. "It would be so handy for Lev. No, one of my spies warned me there might be trouble."

Was _everyone_ on his team plotting something? "Spies?" Tetsurou said, eyebrows shooting up.

Yaku simply tapped his nose and grinned.

"You know what, I don't even want to know," Tetsurou said, rubbing his aching eyes. "Thank you for sorting it out either way." Then he permitted himself a small smile. "Now, as for _you,_ Yamamoto, your next task is to escort Yaku back to medbay and ensure he stays there until the medics promise me he's not going to randomly collapse."

"Now just a minute—"

"Carry him if necessary," Tetsurou added with a grin. "Gently, of course."

Yamamoto — loyal as always — saluted and placed an unshakeable hand on Yaku's shoulder. "Sure thing, boss!"

Yaku sighed, the fight going out of him, and he laughed ruefully. "Alright, it's a fair cop," he said. "If I'm gone much longer, Yachi will probably send out a search party anyway. Speaking of which..." He held out his hand towards Kenma, who took something from him and immediately squirrelled it away into a pocket. "Okay. Let's go, Yamamoto." And then he set off for the hatch with as much dignity as a man wearing a billowing hospital gown in zero-g could possibly have.

"At least fasten your robe!" Yamamoto protested, trailing after him.

Tetsurou waited until they were both gone and then rounded on Kenma. "I need a coffee and then _you_ better start talking, mister."

Kenma was silent as they made their way back into the gravity block, though that was nothing new. Rather than go to the pilots' mess where people might overhear, Tetsurou chose to head to his new cabin. He'd been avoiding it as much as possible — a task made easier by how phenomenally busy he'd been — because it had once been Sawamura's quarters, and it felt weird to just move in there, even with all of Sawamura's belongings having been packed up and moved to storage. The only things left behind had been the furniture and a coffee machine, which reminded him of Sawamura every time he used it.

"I'll make it. You sit down and rest," Kenma said once they arrived, pointing Tetsurou towards the desk and moving over to busy himself with the coffee machine.

Tetsurou was exhausted enough to comply without argument, sitting heavily on the chair and running his fingers through his messy hair. He ran through his mental to-do list, making sure there was nothing too urgent he couldn't delay for ten minutes, and then tried to decide how to pry answers out of Kenma. If only he had some kind of truth serum...

Kenma handed him a steaming cup of coffee and then sat down on the other chair. "So where did you want to start?" he said wryly. "My secret plot to take over the ship or me suggesting we run off to Jupiter together?"

Tetsurou blew gently on his coffee and inhaled the aroma, briefly closing his eyes with pleasure. "How about we start with whatever Yaku gave you?"

Kenma's nose wrinkled and he hid his face with his own coffee. "It's not important. Just something for Shouyou."

"You do realise I know when you're lying, right?" Tetsurou told him. "You're terrible at it." But then he rolled his eyes, knowing it was important to pick his battles carefully where Kenma was concerned. Knowing when Kenma was lying was not the same as being able to get him to tell the truth. "Fine. Let's start with the whole 'hey why don't we run away' bit. You're lucky the others bought your lame joke, by the way, or they might literally have exploded."

"I wasn't really being serious," Kenma said, staring at the hatch pensively as if planning his escape right then. "Because I know you'd never agree to it, and most likely neither would anyone else. But if we were thinking logically, it ought to be an option."

"How is it an option, Kenma?" Tetsurou asked, lowering his voice; he felt guilty even just talking about it. "Even if everyone wanted to leave, there's no way to get a hundred people off the ship at once, and nowhere for us to go. Especially not now everyone's calling us the 'Butchers of Miyagi'."

They'd all seen the news reports; they hadn't helped morale at all either. Even after a week it remained one of the biggest news stories, though by this point the presenters had taken to speculation and rumour in the absence of any actual facts. No doubt it was mainly for propaganda purposes — better for the public to hate the _Karasuno_ than their government (or governments, if you included the Rebel government-in-exile) — but being blamed for the very thing many of them had died while attempting to prevent was galling, to say the least, and the talk of task forces dedicated to hunting them down had a lot of people scared.

He hadn't expected Kenma to be among them, however.

"I never said it would be easy," Kenma said, shrugging. "And we couldn't all go at once. But if we could salvage some old shuttles or even some old lifepods, it might be enough to make it to the Side 4 colonies. A few at a time, to make it less conspicuous."

It took several seconds for that to sink in.

"You're talking about abandoning ship," Tetsurou said, the first stirrings of anger flaring to life. He slurped at his coffee and scowled. "Abandoning _everything_. Giving up. You really want to spend the rest of your life in hiding? Pretending to be someone else on some random colony?"

"I never said I wanted to, Kuro," Kenma replied, unmoved by Tetsurou's obvious disapproval. "But what's the alternative, exactly?"

"The alternative is that we stick by our friends and try to get through this together!" he snapped.

"The _Karasuno_ can't hide forever," Kenma said calmly. "And when they find us, they'll kill us. The only ways I can see to avoid that are for everyone to surrender and hope for mercy — which will probably lead to a sham trial and execution, certainly for us pilots — or for everyone to scatter and go to ground. They might catch some of us, but hopefully not all."

As much as Tetsurou disliked it, he found it hard to refute Kenma's logic. The _Karasuno_ was sheltering in the wreck of a destroyed colony deep in the Shoal Zone; it was an effective hiding place, though that worked both ways, since it made it harder for them to keep an eye out for their hunters. But they weren't impossible to find, and even if they were, they'd run out of supplies eventually.

Not that Kenma's alternatives were much better. Surrender was essentially a case of jumping from the frying pan into the fire, and while scattering and all going their separate ways might improve the chances of some of them making it, no doubt many others would get caught. Tetsurou knew he'd never be able to live with the shame of walking away and leaving everyone to their own fates.

"Kenma," he said, shaking his head to try to clear it of its fog of fatigue, "answer me honestly: if it were possible, would you really do it? Would you really want to go?"

Tetsurou didn't know what he'd do if Kenma said yes. He'd do almost anything for Kenma, and felt responsible for his well-being in ways that he found hard to articulate, but at the same time he had a responsibility towards the rest of the Nekoma survivors — a responsibility he had no intention of shirking. Their collective safety was in his hands now and he couldn't just give up on everyone, not even for Kenma's sake.

"I already said I wasn't being serious," Kenma said steadily, for once meeting his gaze without hesitation. "It's just not practical. Even if it was, I know you'd never leave everyone else. You're too noble — it's annoying. And I wouldn't want to go without you." He shrugged and sipped at his drink. "But I really don't see any way out of this. Our supplies are limited and everyone hates us. It's just a matter of time until we're found."

Tetsurou gulped down more coffee too. "If none of the options look good, that just means we need to think of new ones," he said firmly. "They haven't caught us yet. And the longer we hide, the more time we have to think of a solution and clear our names." An idea came to him, piercing through the wool filling his head like a lightning bolt. "I bet if I can reach Bokuto, I can persuade him to help us. He'd never believe we're murderers."

"He's not very good at keeping things quiet," Kenma said after a moment, but there was a hint of interest in his voice.

"Akaashi is," Tetsurou pointed out.

Kenma considered it. "You'd be putting them in a very difficult position. Even if they believe us, their captain might not. And by trying to help us at all, they'd become associated with us — maybe even arrested if they refused to give us up."

"I wouldn't pressure them. You know I wouldn't. It would be their choice." Blowing out a sigh of frustration, Tetsurou raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. "But you're right, it would put them in an awkward position."

He pointed at Kenma. "Which means you're our best hope. I know how good you are at digging up information, so once you've got access to the ship's computer, dig up anything you can. I'll buy you the time however I can, but you've got to find some evidence, some proof that we weren't behind the attack. It's the only way to get us all out of this alive."

Kenma scrunched up his face in disgust, but Tetsurou recognised that expression well. It was the face Kenma always pulled when he was presented with something he knew he was going to hate but couldn't avoid.

"Fine," he muttered. "But I'll need full access to the comms system."

Tetsurou shook his head; the room seemed to keep spinning afterwards and he frowned. "I'll talk to Takeda. But communications are on lockdown, remember — can't risk giving our position away. He might not go for it."

"We're setting up relay beacons, aren't we?"

"Yes, but..." He was slurring and his brain felt like someone had hit the brakes and sent his consciousness slamming into the front of his skull. "Kenma, I'm not feeling great."

"That'll be the sleeping pill I put in your coffee," Kenma said, sipping at his own coffee with an expression of pure innocence.

"What? Why?!" Then Tetsurou remembered Yaku giving him something earlier. "You crafty bastards! _You_ were the one who called Yaku to the hangar, weren't you? Was Yamamoto in on it too?" He slammed his fist into the desk, though his arm felt like a noodle and it didn't really have the effect he'd hoped. "Dammit, Kenma! I've got too much to do!"

"It's for your own good, Tetsurou. You've barely slept in days, not to mention your injuries still haven't fully healed," Kenma said in a hard voice. "Everyone has been asking you to slow down and take better care of yourself — even Commander Takeda — but you keep refusing. I'm sorry for tricking you, but it's for your own good. You'll be no use to anyone if you collapse and end up in medbay."

Tetsurou was really feeling it now; his eyelids were closing of their own accord. "But everyone's relying on me..."

"I've already organised some of the others to help out," Kenma said implacably. "We'll handle things for a few hours." He put his coffee aside and stood up, grasping Tetsurou's arm and hauling him to his feet. "C'mon," he said. "Let's get you to bed before you fall asleep."

"This is mutiny," he muttered, leaning heavily on Kenma. "I'll have you court-martialled."

"Sure. But only after you get an uninterrupted 8 hours of sleep." Kenma gave a little _fu-fu-fu_ of laughter. "Besides, I think any court would have a lot more important crimes to prosecute us for."

Well, maybe a few hours' sleep wasn't such a bad idea. "Promise to wake me up if anything important happens?"  
  
"No," Kenma said, rolling him onto what had once been Sawamura's bed. "Now go to sleep."  
  
Tetsurou drifted off the moment his head touched the pillow.

 

* * *

 

Yuu winced as he rolled out of bed, the action jarring his leg painfully.

He sat on the edge of the mattress and glared down at the offending limb. "You better not slow me down," he told it, tracing his fingers over the vivid surgical scars and tender, swollen flesh of his thigh. "Or I won't forgive you."

More carefully this time, he stood up — favouring his good leg — and hobbled across Ryuu's empty futon to the tiny toilet. Ryuu had left some time ago to start his duty shift, no doubt trying his best to be quiet but nevertheless making as much noise as a herd of drunken buffalo holding a dance party. Yuu had been drifting in and out of sleep the whole night, so the noise didn't bother him, but he pretended to sleep through it anyway simply because he didn't feel up to any conversation.

He'd been totally up for sharing a cabin with Ryuu. They got on better than brothers and spent most of their free time together anyway, and Yuu's cabin — while a terrible mess — wasn't that cluttered; he'd limited his personalisation to a couple of sexy posters and an old-fashioned clock that had once belonged to his grandfather, all of which were easily transferred across. But now that he'd been discharged from medbay, Ryuu had been fretting over him like he was a baby bird with a broken wing. Yuu loved his bro to bits but there were only so many times he could put up with being treated like an invalid or a small child without getting pissed off, and he didn't want to lose his temper with Ryuu —  Ryuu didn't deserve that.

After seeing to his needs and gingerly pulling on his uniform, Yuu studied the painkillers and other pills beside his bed contemplatively. The medics had insisted he take them as a condition of his release from "medical jail" (as he and Ryuu had described it), but his leg wasn't hurting too badly and he didn't want to rely on drugs or take any other easy outs. He was tough, he'd manage.

He abandoned his crutch for the same reason (a crutch? seriously?!) and limped for the hatch.

Besides, it had been his own fault. He'd been careless in the battle; after everything with Asahi, he'd been... distracted, his reflexes dulled from their usual razor sharpness, and his Defender had taken a nasty hit near the end of the battle as a result. Ryuu claimed it had been bad luck but Yuu knew better. The spike of broken metal through his right leg had been his punishment for his lapse in attention and he was going to take that punishment like a man, not rely on others to coddle him.

Even so, he was breathless and sweating by the time he reached the mess, and after grabbing a meagre breakfast — his appetite still hadn't returned — he settled gratefully into the nearest chair. Technically it was probably an early lunch rather than breakfast, but it would taste the same either way and there was nobody else there to quibble about it anyway.

He would have preferred some company, but it was mid shift and everyone else was likely to be either busy or asleep. Being left alone with his thoughts often ended badly, so he turned on the viewscreen and selected some silly cartoons to watch while he ate.

It helped, a little. By the time he'd finished, his mood had risen and the pain was more distant, so he decided it was time to face the task he'd been dreading.

Time to visit Asahi.

Yuu hadn't spoken to him since the battle — despite calling and messaging him dozens of times — and as far as he knew, nobody else on the team had even _seen_ him, let alone talked to him. Sure, he'd figured Asahi would need some time to himself, especially after losing Daichi and Suga, but it had been _days_.

So while lying awake in bed that morning, replaying the battle in his head for the thousandth time, Yuu had decided that enough was enough. Things were about as bad as they could possibly get and the _Karasuno_ needed its ace if it was to stand a chance.

And anyway, maybe he could help — they were friends, weren't they? Maybe Asahi would feel better for talking about it. And if nothing else, Yuu could at least try to find out what was going on with him. Chikara had specifically told Yuu not to contact Asahi, that everyone should give him space and time to recover at his own pace, but this was _Asahi_ and frankly Yuu decided he was owed some answers, so Chikara could go screw himself.

Fortunately it wasn't far to go, but he still gave himself a minute outside Asahi's hatch to catch his breath and let the agony in his leg fade away before pressing the chime. And then again, and then a third time when there was still no response.

"Asahi, it's me," he said, banging on the metal hatch with his fist. "It's Noya. Please open up — I just want to talk."

No response.

"Asahi, come on."

Yuu clenched his jaw. Fine, if Asahi wanted to be stubborn, he'd just have to out-stubborn him.

"I'm going to stand outside your hatch until you open it, even if it means standing here all day with my bad leg. And you know I'll do it."

For a few minutes, Yuu wondered if Asahi really _was_ going to make him stand there all day, and the ache in his leg was getting worse, so he was glancing down at the deck and wondering whether sitting instead of standing counted as chickening out or not. But then — finally — the hatch swished open.

Asahi looked _awful._ His hair was a scraggly mess, he hadn't shaved, his clothes were rumpled, and there were enormous dark circles around his eyes. Yuu had seen corpses that looked more lively. The smell wasn't great either, though Yuu wasn't sure whether that was Asahi himself or the inevitable pong of a small space that had been lived in non-stop for days.

Yet now that he was actually face to face with him, Yuu suddenly didn't know what to do.

"Can I come in?" he asked quietly.

With a grimace, Asahi stepped aside, so Yuu limped inside.

It wasn't a pretty sight. The desk was littered with discarded food packets and dirty cutlery; old clothing was strewn about or thrown over the chair; and the computer panel on the desk was cracked and dark. The main light was off and only the small bedside lamp was on, casting sinister shadows across the walls. And yes, the cabin did stink — the smells of stale sweat and food going off mixing badly enough to turn his stomach.

Yuu used an arm to sweep some of the shit off Asahi's desk and pulled himself up onto it, resting his injured leg on the chair. He liked sitting on desks and tables; it was higher up, making him taller, and he could swing his feet if he wanted.

Asahi shuffled over to his bed and sat on it heavily, not directly facing Yuu. He sighed and held his head in his hands. "How's your leg?"

"Good as new," Yuu said, grinning at Asahi's dubious glance. "How's your brain?"

"What do you want, Noya?"

"I want to know what happened to you. I want to know if you're okay."

Asahi sighed again. "You know what happened. You were there."

Yuu absently massaged his thigh. "I know you froze up. That's all." Frustration bled into his tone as he continued. "But I don't know _why_."

When Asahi flinched back, hugging himself tightly, Yuu swallowed hard in an attempt to bite back his anger.

"I'm sorry, Noya," Asahi mumbled. "I didn't mean to let everyone down."

"Asahi, what _happened_? I won't tell anyone else if you don't want, not even Ryuu, so please try to explain." When there was no response, he leant forward. "Was it shock? Of losing Daichi and Suga?"

Asahi shook his head miserably. "I can't. I can't, Noya. I don't want to have to think about it again."

"Look," Yuu said, struggling for patience. "I get that sometimes the mind works in funny ways. Everyone panics sometimes, even me. But why couldn't you snap out of it? You're supposed to be the ace, Asahi. People _needed_ you. _I_ needed you!"

"You think I don't know that?" Asahi said, his voice hitching. "You think I don't hate myself because of it? I'm not an ace, Noya. I'm a failure. I always was. I only survived last time because of Daichi, because of Suga. Without them, I'm nothing."

"That's bullshit and you know it," Yuu snapped. "I've seen you fly. You're a fantastic pilot. Everyone thinks so."

Asahi sucked in a shuddering breath and glared at him with tearful eyes; he moved his hands to the bed, gripping at the sheets tightly. " _You_ thought so. But I was never the man you thought I was. I'm no hero. It was all a lie, and now you know the truth."

Somewhere deep inside Yuu's chest, something shattered into a thousand pieces. He looked away, embarrassed and ashamed, and a ragged silence grew between them, raw and festering.

Yuu knew that Asahi had never considered himself a real ace. He'd even _liked_ that about him. Sure, it was baffling — Yuu would have been crowing about it from the rooftops if it had been him — but he'd just seen it as further evidence of Asahi's worthiness. After all, true hero was humble, right? Not arrogant, not over-confident.

But this...

No. The past wasn't important now. Yuu wasn't completely stupid — nobody was perfect. Everyone made mistakes, sometimes even really big ones. What mattered was the future: how they overcame those mistakes and made sure not to repeat them.

"All I know is that Karasuno needs you, Asahi. Please. You don't have to tell me anything if you really don't want to. But I hate seeing you like this. Let me help you."

His resolve almost failed when he saw tears leave glistening trails down Asahi's cheeks, but he had to get through to him.

"I don't deserve help," Asahi said, squeezing the words out between ragged breaths. Yuu had to close his eyes as his fingernails dug into his palms. "You're all better off without me. I'm a liability. I can't go out there again, Noya. I'll freeze up and someone else will get killed and it'll be my fault. It'll happen again, I just know it."

"You _don't_ know it!" Yuu said, pleading. He slipped off the desk and sank down to his knees in front of Asahi, peering up at his tear-stained face and tired, red eyes. It hurt like hell but right then the ache in his heart hurt more. "But even if it does happen, we can help! Just let me know and I can cover you until you're feeling better again!"

"I don't—" Asahi cut himself off, shaking his head. "It's not that simple, Noya!"

"Why?" Noya said. He was breathing hard now, and not just from the pain in his leg. "Tell me. Tell me why, Asahi!" He pressed his hand against his thigh and grimaced. "People get hurt. People die. It sucks but that's life. We can't just shut down and give up whenever it happens. Especially not when people are relying on us. We're pilots, remember? We're the front line, the spear and the shield!"

"You're not listening, Noya! It's _because_ people are relying on us that..." He shook his head. "I keep trying to explain, but you don't understand. Someone like you could never understand."

"And what's that supposed to mean?!"

Asahi turned away, hiding his face. "Just leave me alone, Noya. Find yourself a better ace instead. Someone who actually deserves your respect."

"No!" he said forcefully, struggling to his feet and gripping Asahi's shoulder. Asahi shrugged him off at once. "Look, Asahi, don't hide away. That isn't — alright, I admit, maybe I can't understand what you're going through, but I do know that running away is never a good solution. Believe me. Fears only grow until you face them."

"I want you to go."

Yuu folded his arms. "No. I'm staying until you feel better."

Asahi's shoulders went tight, hunched in, and the muscles in his neck stood out. "Noya..." he said with a hint of anger. "Please. Go, now."

"Not until you either agree to come back or give me a good reason why not."

In response, Asahi stood and took a step towards him. He placed his hands firmly on Yuu's shoulders and rotated him to face the door. "Get out, Noya," he muttered. "I've had enough."

Yuu dug in his heels, leaning back as Asahi tried to push him towards the door. "No."

"I said GET OUT!" Asahi yelled, giving him a shove.

Ordinarily, it wouldn't have done anything, but as Yuu instinctively moved his right leg out to catch his balance, it buckled. He went down in a heap, letting out an involuntary yelp as his leg hit the metal of the deck.

"Oh my god, Noya, I'm sorry, I didn't mean —"

Yuu batted away Asahi's hands as he tried to help him up, grimacing with pain and sadness and anger and fear. "I believed in you," he said, gritting his teeth as he pushed himself upright, using the bed for support. "Even after what happened, even after what everyone was saying, I still believed in you."

"You shouldn't have," Asahi mumbled miserably, still kneeling on the deck where Yuu had fallen.

"Yeah," Noya said in a trembling voice. "I see that now."

Asahi's anguished cries were audible even through the sturdy metal hatch once it slid shut behind him.

Yuu let himself slide down to the deck, burying his head in his arms. He forced himself to take deep, slow breaths, to hold back the grief and fury that raged inside him, fighting for freedom. He would _not_ cry. He wouldn't.

He stayed like that for several minutes, not looking up even when a passing crewman stopped to ask if he was okay; he just nodded and waved the man away.

Finally, once he thought he had his emotions in check, he clambered to his feet — and by now his leg was _really_ hurting, enough that he couldn't even put his weight on it — and hopped along the corridor, one hand gripping the railing for support.

His plan had been to return to his cabin, take some pills, and bury his head into his pillow to scream for a while, but bass music pulsing through the next hatch caught his attention. He stopped outside; it was Hisashi's cabin.

Hisashi had been in the next bed over during Yuu's stay in medbay. He'd been unconscious for nearly three days, and for a while the medics weren't even sure whether he would ever wake up; a machine had to breathe for him and he was being fed by a drip. When he'd finally woken up, late one night, his coughing and choking and weak moans of alarm also woke Yuu, who watched as the medics checked him over and tried to calm him down. Hisashi had drifted in and out of consciousness for the next few days, but when he was lucid enough, they spoke quietly to pass the time... at least until Chikara reluctantly gave him the news about Daichi, Suga, and Kazuhito. Then he'd curled up, his back to Yuu, and shook with silent sobs for a long time, ignoring everyone and everything around him until he fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

Yuu pressed the button beside his hatch.

"It's Noya," he said into the intercom.

After a moment, the lock light went from red X to green O, but it didn't open until Yuu pressed the button again. Deafening music flooded the corridor, a relentless, pounding beat with no lyrics.

Hisashi was on his side on his bed, a bottle of clear liquid gripped in one hand. Judging by the sharp, heady smell, it wasn't water.

They'd released him shortly before they'd released Yuu, eager to clear two more beds and relieve the strain on the overburdened medical staff. His head injury had been the most worrying thing, though he'd also won some broken ribs and a collection of bruises, but after they'd observed him for a few days with no severe complications, they were willing to let him go as long as he took it easy and returned for regular check-ups.

Not that being discharged meant he was well: Hisashi's sense of balance and coordination was way off, he was constantly nauseous, he had terrible headaches, and the cute blonde medic who had finally discharged him warned him of mood swings and sensitivity to light, amongst other things. To Hisashi, it didn't really matter; like Yuu, he'd simply wanted to get out of the depressing medbay.

How the pounding music and the booze would help his headaches and sickness, Yuu had no idea, but he figured that if Hisashi didn't want company he wouldn't have opened the door. Yuu closed the hatch and flopped onto the bed beside Hisashi's feet, grasping for the bottle and taking a few gulps that seared him as though it had set his gullet on fire.

"What the hell is this stuff?" he said, spluttering and choking as he handed the bottle back. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the anarchic throb of the music.

"Dunno," Hisashi replied listlessly. "I asked the chief for the strongest stuff she had and this was it." He swallowed another mouthful himself, gasping. "Not that it matters. I'll probably end up puking it all up again soon."

Yuu stabbed at the control panel next to the bed until the music had dipped from eardrum bursting to merely deafening, then shuffled around so that he lay opposite Hisashi, with his leg stretched out towards him. Hisashi passed the bottle over again.

"Still better than medbay," Yuu said after forcing down another scorching mouthful and wondering whether it was actually drinkable or whether the chief had given him a bottle of acid by mistake.

Hisashi huffed once, as if he could barely muster enough energy to laugh. "Yeah."

They lay like that for some time, passing the bottle back and forth. It didn't take long for the alcohol to take effect, though the more Yuu drank, the less he felt his leg, so he kept going until the room seemed to spin without him even moving. He'd nearly drifted off to sleep, lulled into a trance by the music and the warmth of Hisashi's bed, when Hisashi spoke again.

"Everything's gone to shit, Noya."

He sighed. "I know."

 

* * *

 

"In terms of mobile suits," Chikara said after checking his datapad, "we've got eight more or less operational. Four others are still being repaired; the rest have been written off and are being cannibalised for parts. But we only have one working Conductor right now."

Commander Kuroo chipped in. "Kozume's," he clarified. "And the good news is that we can more or less scrape together eight pilots to fly those mobile suits."

"Good," Captain Ukai said gruffly. "Keep up the patrols. I don't like the sound of these sensor ghosts that keep appearing."

For a while now, they'd been sending out a pair of mobile suits at a time to conduct stealthy patrols and keep an eye open for any potentially useful salvage. With the _Karasuno_ herself concealed within the wreck of a shattered colony cylinder, her own sensors were blind, so the ship relied on probes and mobile suits to warn of any approaching danger.

The patrols themselves had been surprisingly popular with the pilots; many of them had clearly being itching to get out there and "stretch their legs" as Tanaka had put it, even if it was mostly just boring routine. But the dense debris of the Shoal Zone that helped cover their tracks could also obscure any enemies, and the occasional blips that intermittently popped up on sensors had people spooked. Personally Chikara suspected it was a fault in the sensors; the mobile suits had all taken so much punishment that it was a wonder any of them were flying at all. But either way, they had to stay on guard.

After their brief status report on the mobile suits, Ukai went around the rest of the room's occupants to get further updates. As the youngest and lowest ranking person in the room, Chikara couldn't help but feel somewhat intimidated, but he listened closely all the same. The chief engineer, a brusque, sharp-tongued woman named Hiroki, gave a sobering update on the ship's health: all but two hull breaches had been sealed (the two that remained were deemed unrepairable without a shipyard), one third of the ship's weapons were inoperable, one of the engines had failed completely, and remaining systems were mostly functional but not always reliable. The weapons officer, Shimizu, concisely explained their defensive precautions: smoke mines had been seeded throughout the area to give them cover to escape, and a network of probes had been set up to give them some early warning, but she reiterated Hiroki's misgivings about the ship's ability to fight another major battle.

"Sadly we aren't likely to get much say in the matter," Ukai replied dryly. "Next?"

The rest of the updates weren't much better. The chief medical officer reported that most of the remaining casualties in the ship's medbays had now been discharged, but that they were critically short on supplies, especially drugs like antibiotics and painkillers; Commander Takeda provided a depressing update on their other stores, like fuel, food, air, and water (summary: not good), as well as commenting on the poor morale throughout the ship; and Kuroo, as ranking Nekoma officer, gave everyone a brief update on the rocky path to integrating his people with the _Karasuno_ 's crew.

"There's a lot of friction, especially since we're continuing to shuffle people around as needed," he concluded, slumping in his seat. "I've got a handle on things for the time being but we could really use some good news soon."

Ukai nodded and the small meeting room fell silent. They all knew he'd summoned them not just to hear updates in person — since he could easily read the written reports they sent in or simply ask Takeda for an overview —  but also to give them an update in return, something all of them were eager to hear. Now that the immediate concerns of survival had been met, everyone was keen to know what the longer term plan was.

Chikara didn't envy him in the least. It was bad enough trying to manage half a mobile suit team, let alone a damaged ship on the run in the midst of a civil war. And he knew that the Miyagi attack had hit Ukai hard on a personal level, too: he'd lost his grandfather, after all, and Miyagi had been his home. Ukai clearly hadn't been immune to the stress of it all; his eyes were bloodshot, his uniform rumpled, his face unshaven, and he smelled faintly of tobacco. Officially smoking was prohibited aboard warships, since it added unnecessary strain to the air filters, but that didn't mean people always obeyed. Besides, Ukai was the captain; his word was law aboard the ship.

"I guess you all want to know what our next move is," Ukai said, leaning back and clasping his hands on the table. "First, however, you're going to need some context. Commander Takeda?"

Takeda nodded and adjusted his glasses. "As I'm sure you're all aware, the civil war has intensified in the aftermath of Miyagi. The earlier skirmishes have given way to more serious fighting now that coherent resistance to the military junta has formed."

"You mean the government-in-exile at Side 1?" Kuroo asked.

"Precisely. It's absorbed most of the other anti-Junta factions and virtually all extant rebel units have sided with them now. They also have significant legitimacy in the eyes of the public, since their leadership is formed mainly from the few democratic representatives who eluded capture when martial law was declared. Trade Minister Jaya Kumari has emerged as the figurehead."

"So what?" Hiroki asked. "I thought both sides hated us now. What difference does the politics make?"

Takeda pointedly waited a few more seconds before replying, keeping his eyes on her until she shifted uncomfortably; it was his polite way of telling her not to interrupt again. It was unusual of him to lose patience so quickly, however; clearly Ukai wasn't the only one stressed out. "Before the attack on Miyagi, we — meaning Commodore Nekomata, Governor Ukai, and ourselves — were all in contact with Kumari's people. Although the democratic resistance had substantial support, perhaps as high as 30% of the overall fleet, that support was scattered throughout the Earth sphere, and thus efforts were in progress to consolidate the various units before they could be wiped out individually by forces loyal to the Junta. Miyagi was to be one of those rallying points and indeed other ships were already en route."

"By this time, there would have been five or six ships at Miyagi," Ukai added. "Enough to protect the colony and strike back if we wanted." He scowled and reached for the hitherto untouched jug of water in the centre of the table, pouring himself a glass. "Or at least that was the plan."

"Are we still in contact with the Rebels at Side 1?" Shimizu asked.

"Unfortunately, they are no longer taking our calls," Takeda said with a wry smile. "And we can't afford to give away our position by continuing to try. But perhaps we don't need to aim so high."

There was a pause as everyone absorbed that. Chikara looked around the table, wondering if everyone else was seeing something he wasn't, or whether there was some secret code only high ranking officers understood that nobody had told him about. "Um, I don't follow," he admitted.

Takeda gave him a brief grin. "I mean we don't necessarily need to convince _all_ of the Rebels to help us. Even a single ship on our side would make a huge difference. It's a risk, of course — both for us and anyone we contact — but finding allies would improve our chances immeasurably. Even if they can only help us in secret, it should be possible to arrange a resupply at least." He poured out a glass of water too and took a sip before continuing. "There are two problems, however."

"I'm assuming communication is one," Hiroki observed.

"Indeed. Our mobile suit patrols have set up a communication relay to help obscure our location, but any outgoing communication is dangerous, so we'll have to keep broadcasts to a minimum — especially since anyone we talk to may choose to give up our position rather than aid us," Takeda explained. "Which is the other problem."

Shimizu nodded. "Deciding who we can trust enough to ask for help."

"Precisely." Takeda sighed, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. "We'd hoped to be able to contact the ships who were en route to Miyagi, since we'd been in close communication with them and hopefully built up some measure of trust. They'd spoken to us directly, as well as Commodore Nekomata and the Governor, so they ought to know we were all on the same side — not holding the colony hostage or anything of that sort. But we've had no response."

"The _Wakutani_ was closest and they've gone quiet, either in hiding or ignoring us like everyone else," Ukai added grumpily. "The rest have no doubt scattered too."

"In which case, we're having to consider other options," Takeda continued. "Our best prospect is probably the _Fukurodani_. Their captain served with both Governor Ukai and Commodore Nekomata, and Commander Kuroo —" Takeda nodded his thanks towards Kuroo, "is good friends with their mobile suit commander, Bokuto. Kuroo has kindly put together a message to try to convince them that we are not, in fact, mass murderers, and Bokuto has confirmed receipt. It remains to be seen whether he can convince his captain to help us, but it's further than we've got with anyone else."

"Problem is that even if the _Fukurodani_ believes us, everyone else thinks we're homicidal maniacs," Kuroo said wearily. "So there's a limit to what they can do for us without getting themselves in trouble as well. They'll have their own orders and can't just fly off to meet us — it'll take time to arrange a rendezvous without raising any suspicions, assuming it's even possible."

"So we're on our own for the time being," Ukai growled. "That's why we're gonna focus on clearing our name. Someone set us up and I want to know who and why."

"Shimizu has been leading our analysis attempts." Takeda looked to Shimizu and gave her a nod, encouraging her to speak.

She studied her datapad for a moment and then cleared her throat. "The fact that the attacking force used _Karasuno_ and _Nekoma_ IFFs — and even had the same paint scheme — suggests that our presence at Miyagi was known in advance and that discrediting us was just as much an objective as damaging or destroying the colony. It is even possible that the same unknown actor is the one who sent Silhouette to Miyagi," she said. "There is no proof, but the fact that the attackers all self-destructed rather than risk capture, just as the would-be bombers were assassinated while in custody, suggests that the strike on Miyagi was some kind of covert operation. But without further information, all we can say is that whoever was behind it had considerable resources at their disposal."

Chikara raised his hand hesitantly, waiting until Takeda gave him a nod. "ECOAS?" he suggested, referring to the clandestine 'Earth, Colony, Asteroid' black ops task force. Rumour had it that they had a completely separate command structure and were granted immunity from prosecution, meaning they could get away with all sorts of nasty business with minimal oversight. In Chikara's opinion that was a very bad combination, and he could well believe them to be capable of something like this.

"It is a possibility," Takeda agreed. "We have no way of knowing, of course; the existence of ECOAS still hasn't even been officially confirmed."

"Maybe not officially, but we're not idiots," Hiroki said. "Enough people have seen them to confirm they exist. They aren't ghosts."

Ukai thumped the table. "Whoever it is, we're going to find them," he said firmly. "But the first priority is to resupply and get the ship up and running again. Even if the _Fukurodani_ agrees to help, we can't afford to just sit and wait for them to rescue us. We need to be proactive and do what we can ourselves. The Shoal Zone is the biggest scrapyard in the solar system; there's bound to be something useful out there that the scavengers have missed. And in the meantime, I want you all to talk to your people, review everything we have from Miyagi, and see if there are any clues we missed. Got it?"

A chorus of agreement ran around the table.

"Good. Then hop to it."

Chikara was first out of the hatch, being furthest from Ukai and thus nearest to the exit, but he slowed when he saw Kuroo hurrying to catch up.

"Sooo..." Kuroo said. "That was interesting. What did you think?"

"You're asking me?"

Kuroo was now a half step ahead, and when he turned right at the next junction, towards the pilots' mess, Chikara found himself following without thinking. "While I am a great conversationalist," Kuroo said, "even I don't hold entire conversations with myself, and since there's nobody else around, yes, I'm asking you."

Chikara sighed. He hadn't interacted much with Kuroo during their stay at Miyagi, but now that he'd assumed command of Karasuno's mobile suit team, they were working together more closely — which meant he was now exposed to Kuroo's unique personality. A lot of the time, he couldn't quite figure out whether Kuroo was trying to be nice to him or whether he was teasing him. He suspected it might be both.

"I think you could have told me about the _Fukurodani_ beforehand."

The mess was almost empty; only Fukunaga was present, dressed in a scarlet robe and slurping away at an enormous cup of what smelled like hot chocolate while watching TV. He waved cheerfully as they entered, as though he were in some expensive hotel and not recovering from a major battle. A few weeks ago, Chikara would have checked to see if he was hallucinating, but Nekoma were all mad to some degree or other and by now he was so used to their antics that he simply waved back without a second thought.

Having obtained coffees, they settled at a nearby table to talk. "There wasn't much to tell you," Kuroo admitted. "And to be honest, I wasn't even sure I should mention it to Ukai. Bokuto and I go way back and I knew how he'd react if he'd heard from me — he'd jump to help, even if it got him into trouble. He's the sort to leap before he looks."

"So what swayed you? The fact that without help we're all doomed?"

"That helped," Kuroo admitted with a wry grin. "But in the end I actually sent the message to Bokuto's second, Akaashi. I don't know him as well but I trust him not to immediately betray us, so I asked him to show the message to Bokuto. That way, Akaashi would be able to rein him in before he could do anything too rash. It must have worked, because I got a short confirmation back rather than a passionate declaration that Bokuto was about to jump into his mobile suit and fly off to rescue us."

Chikara blew gently on his coffee to cool it. "Unless it was just a ploy. How do you know they're not just stalling to allay our suspicions while they send a fleet to hunt for us?" he said bitterly. He'd hoped that at least some voices of reason would continue to question what happened, maybe reserve judgement on the _Karasuno_ until there was more proof, but if the news was anything to go by, he'd been wildly optimistic. Even allied ships and friendly officers they'd worked with before were condemning them now. "For that matter, how do they know _you_ were being honest? Maybe the evil _Karasuno_ captured you and forced you to say whatever we told you to say — after all, we were supposedly holding an entire colony hostage. Kidnapping one mobile suit pilot would be child's play."

"Well, for starters, I wasn't stupid enough to tell them exactly where we were hiding," Kuroo pointed out. "Also, we would have been able to tell if the other was under duress. We have a secret code."

"A secret code," Chikara said, shooting him a flat look.

Kuroo raised his eyebrows. "You mean you _don't_ have a secret code?" He shook his head and tutted. "Honestly, what do they teach you kids today? You never know when you might need to communicate with your friends under questionable circumstances..."

"Right... I'll get straight to work on inventing one," Chikara said, wearily propping up his head on one arm. "But I really do hope the _Fukurodani_ agrees to hear us out. The _Karasuno_ is feeling very lonely right now. Though even if our odds double, two in a million isn't much better than one in a million."

Kuroo snorted with laughter. "I can tell you're going to make a truly inspirational leader, Ennoshita."

Chikara sighed. The external situation was bad enough, but it was the internal situation that was really getting to him. The ship might be held together with duct tape and makeshift welds, but his team was falling apart. "I can't inspire them if they don't even listen to me," he said, rubbing his aching neck with one hand.

He really was trying to take his new job seriously, but often it felt like he was the only one who was; everyone else seemed intent on making his life difficult. Azumane was still... unavailable, Kinoshita wasn't much better, and the rookies were all arguing with each other. Noya was the worst — Chikara had yelled at him for disturbing Azumane and they'd ended up having a fierce row. He'd felt like a single parent trying to discipline a rebellious teenager. The only one who _wasn't_ driving him up the wall was Tanaka, but even he was trying to stay neutral rather than take sides between Chikara and Noya.

"How do you manage it?" he asked Kuroo enviously. "You make it seem effortless."

Kuroo let out a laugh like an excited goat. "Me?! Several of my pilots conspired to _drug_ me yesterday _._ Don't hold me up as a good example." When Chikara failed to smile, he sighed and shook his head ruefully. "There's no right answer, Ennoshita. Every team and commander is different. But if you really do want my advice, I'd say to ease off a bit. You've been quite hard on them."

Chikara frowned, opening his mouth to protest, but then he closed it again. _Had_ he been too hard on them? It did feel like he was shouting at them more than anything else, but what else was he supposed to do when all they did was squabble like children? "I don't know how Sawamura managed it," he said wistfully, sipping at his coffee. "He could get them to behave with just a look. And if he yelled at you, you did whatever he said right that instant, no questions asked."

"But you're not Sawamura," Kuroo said softly. "You need to find your own way of managing your team, not try to be Sawamura Mk 2." He ran a hand through his hair and gave Chikara a lopsided grin. "It's not really your fault. Promoting from within a team always makes it much harder to maintain objectivity, on both sides. Most of them still think of you as just a fellow pilot and I bet you still think of yourself that way too. But in some ways, that also gives you an edge: you already know them and they already know you. So use that to your advantage. That's what I did."

Huh. That sort of made sense, but it was also easier said than done. He scratched his ear and thought for a minute, but short of blackmailing them all, nothing sprung to mind. "I'll have to think about it, I guess."

Kuroo shrugged, and the conversation came to an awkward end. Chikara was glad for the noise of Fukunaga's soap opera, which helped fill the uncomfortable void. Even so, he started casting around for something else to say, staring around the room for inspiration.

Fortunately, Kuroo got there first. He'd dropped his eyes to the table and had started idly tracing out shapes with his fingers. "Have you reviewed the recordings of the battle?"

Chikara gulped down some coffee. "Yeah." He'd gone through every available recording from every mobile suit. It had left him feeling sick and emotionally exhausted and certainly hadn't helped him sleep. "Why do you ask?"

"What did you think of their tactics?" Kuroo asked, leaving his table doodles to sip at his coffee. "The way they fought?"

"Uh... I mean, they were very good, obviously," he said. "Very coordinated. That's why I thought of ECOAS — they're supposed to be elite. But whoever they were, it must have taken a lot of practice — presumably they've trained together a lot, or maybe fought together before."

Kuroo studied Chikara over the lid of his coffee cup, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. "That was your first proper battle, right?"

"Yeah," Chikara admitted. "I mean, I've been in combat before, but nothing like that."

"So maybe it didn't strike you as strange as it did me," Kuroo said. He put down the cup and returned to doodling imaginary shapes on the tabletop. "They were extremely well coordinated and very accurate, but their tactics were... odd."

"Seemed pretty effective to me," Chikara said bitterly, thinking back to how brutally Karasuno had been decapitated. Their carefully planned defence had been brushed aside like nothing more than a cobweb.

"Yes, but _odd_ ," Kuroo insisted. "Trust me. For example, right at the start, after..." He paused, his finger stilling, and he sighed. "After Sawamura and Sugawara were killed, they focused on Kageyama — but they didn't finish him off when they could have. They left Azumane alone when he didn't move. And —"

"Ennoshita! Lieutenant Ennoshita!"

Before Kuroo could say anything else, Hinata came bounding in like a five year old child begging his parents to stay up late. "Oh, hello, Commander Kuroo!" he added, greeting Kuroo with a cheerful dip of his head.

Chikara rolled his eyes. "Hinata, if this is about contacting your family again, I already told you yesterday that—"

"No, no, it's not that," Hinata said quickly, though his enthusiasm dimmed slightly. "I understood what you said, that every message sent risks us being discovered. I just hoped..." He shook his head. "Never mind. That's not why I'm here, sir."

Hinata had been a persistent thorn in Chikara's side, though not deliberately. He'd been concerned about the rift between Kageyama and Hinata ever since the battle; he'd refused their repeated requests to swap cabins in the vain hope that living together would force them to bury the hatchet, but it didn't seem to be working, and the ongoing feud wasn't helping team morale at all. And then yesterday Hinata had come to him asking whether he could send his family a message to let them know he was okay. He'd been so heartbroken when Chikara refused that Chikara had ended up trying to justify himself for twenty minutes.

"Okay, so what's it about then?" he asked.

Hinata pressed his hands together and bowed in supplication. " _Please_ can I go out on a patrol? If I don't fly soon, I might lose my mind!"

Kuroo grinned broadly and glanced at Chikara with one raised eyebrow. The message was clear: _here's your first test._

Chikara swivelled in his chair to face Hinata fully. "Isn't your mobile suit basically just a head, a torso, and an arm?"

"Yes, but I checked with Chief Takinoue and he said that the sensors still work!" Hinata paused and frowned. "He says he knows because he was about to tear them out to install on _your_ mobile suit."

It was all very well for Kuroo to talk about him going easier on his team, but what was he supposed to say? 'Yes, Hinata, of course you can go flying through the deadly debris in your crippled mobile suit! It's not like you're held together by stitches and glue or anything.'

"Hinata..." Chikara began, sighing. "I understand that you're bored, but you can't go out in half a mobile suit. It's lunacy."

"But if I'm only scouting and looking for salvage, sensors and some thrusters are all I need!"

He glanced at Kuroo, who was very clearly enjoying the conversation and trying to contain his laughter. "Don't look at me," Kuroo said with a smirk. "He's your pilot." But then he gave Hinata sly look. "Though I think Fukunaga's Avenger is almost operational. Maybe he could take out that." He leant back in his chair to see Fukunaga and called, "Oi, Fukunaga, you're okay with Hinata borrowing your mobile suit, right?"

When Fukunaga gave him a thumbs up, Hinata looked so happy he could burst. "Thanks Fukunaga!" he said, prancing from foot to foot. "I owe you one! No, make that TWO! Two favours because it means so much to me!"

Kuroo had given up trying not to laugh. "How can you say no to that, Ennoshita?" he asked between chuckles.

Chikara eyed him with disgust — was he trying to help or just being mischievous again? — and sighed.

Alright, fine... Maybe there were advantages, _if_ Hinata promised to take it easy. According to the schedule, Yamamoto and Inuoka were on patrol at the moment, and Tanaka and Kageyama were up next, with Kageyama using Azumane's mobile suit. Maybe flying together again would help Hinata and Kageyama finally make peace. And Tanaka would be there to keep an eye on them both too.

"Are you sure you're well enough?" he asked sternly, giving Hinata a closer look. Hinata was certainly energetic enough, but he'd been hurt badly. Chikara didn't want his wounds to tear open and start bleeding every time he pulled a high-g manoeuvre.

"Better than ever!" Hinata promised. He posed like a bodybuilder and demonstrated by flexing; there was no discernible difference as far as Chikara could tell. "See?!"

By now Kuroo had his head on the table, trying to muffle his laughter; he sounded like a dying donkey being smothered by a pillow.

Chikara sighed in defeat. "Alright, Hinata. Take Fukunaga's suit. But no playing about and be _careful_. If you come back bleeding, I'll confine you to medbay until your friend Yachi —" who, as Chikara had found out himself, was notoriously cautious, "— is satisfied that you're fully healed. Understood?"

Hinata nodded seriously. "Yes sir!"

"Alright. Go get ready then — next patrol is due to launch in forty minutes."

It took several minutes for Kuroo to stop laughing. When he finally sat up, wiping tears from his eyes, he said, "Oh man. I wanna adopt that kid. He's such a ray of sunshine." He grinned and stretched out in his seat in a passable Cheshire cat impression. "Will you swap him for Lev?"

Chikara drained the rest of his coffee in one go.

"Absolutely not."

 


	19. Omnivorous

It was good to be back in a mobile suit again. Shouyou sent the Avenger into a weave just so he could feel the familiar, comforting lurch of his body as the mobile suit's motion pushed him from side to side. Whooping with joy, he hit the thrusters and the Avenger leapt forwards, shoving him back against his harness.

" _Oi! Hinata! Don't get lost!_ " Tanaka warned him over the comm; his voice cut out occasionally whenever line of sight was momentarily blocked by debris, but it was better than using radio and risking being overheard or detected.

Reluctantly, Shouyou slowed back down to let the other two catch up.

"Sorry Tanaka!" he replied, ignoring a twinge of discomfort in his side; it was worth the pain. "Just happy to fly again."

" _Sure, I get that,_ " Tanaka said, and Hinata could hear the humour in his voice. " _But stay close, okay? Or Ennoshita will have my head._ "

It was funny how Tanaka had changed so much recently. Back before Miyagi, he would probably have been racing Shouyou rather than reining him in. But now he was acting all responsible and mature (mostly). Maybe he felt like he had to step up now that Sawamura and Suga were gone, or maybe he was simply afraid to lose anyone else. Shouyou didn't blame him at all, but he couldn't help miss the old, more fun-loving Tanaka sometimes.

Then again, Tanaka wasn't the only person to change. Everyone had, Shouyou included. Miyagi had divided his life into two periods, before and after, and now nothing was the same. Everything seemed more _real_ , somehow, like he'd spent his whole life living in a kind of dream only to suddenly wake up. So it was no wonder everyone was more serious now; they probably felt the same.

But he missed the easy camaraderie and close-knit friendships they'd forged during the intensive training, two things that they needed more than ever now that times were tough. Shouyou had started trying to set an example, like putting on a smile even when he didn't feel like it, in the hopes it would at least cheer up others — and maybe even fool himself into feeling better, too.

It felt a bit like simply papering over the giant hole in his heart, but he'd keep on trying.

The three mobile suits were flying a loose circuit of the debris around the shattered colony where the _Karasuno_ had hidden. For the most part they were letting themselves drift, only firing thrusters to avoid debris or change course since the bright flare of their thrusters could be seen a long way away, and the slow speeds meant that there was plenty of time to take in the sights of the Shoal Zone. It was a sobering place; once upon a time it had held dozens of colonies and was home to hundreds of millions of people, but now it was nothing more than a cloud of floating wreckage. Any surviving colonies had been moved to other locations, since the risk of collisions was too high otherwise, leaving it a silent graveyard. According to Tsukishima, battles had been fought there during almost every war since the One Year War back in 0079, and by looking closely Shouyou could see plenty of evidence of that. Remains of vintage mobile suits like Zakus and GMs were common, alongside One Year War era ships like Magellans and Musais, but there were wrecks of newer mobile suits and ships as well; he spotted later generation GM suits, a few Hizacks, and more.

" _So..._ " Tanaka said, making Shouyou jump; they'd all been silent for a while. " _You two still arguing?_ "

"Yes!" Shouyou replied at the same time as Kageyama gruffly replied, " _No._ "

Tanaka laughed, a much rarer sound than it had once been. " _I guess that answers that._ "

" _We're not arguing,_ " Kageyama repeated.

"Yes we are," Shouyou said. "Kageyama won't admit that he snores, won't admit that he's been using my toothpaste, and won't admit that he was _wrong_."

" _We use the_ same toothpaste, _dumbass, everyone on the ship does. There's literally no difference. And I do NOT snore._ "

Shouyou met that with a snort of derision. "I'll record you and prove it. Not like I can sleep while you're doing it."

There was an audible groan of irritation from Kageyama. " _And you're the one who won't admit he was wrong!_ "

"I only did what I did because of what you _didn't_ do!" Shouyou snapped back, his mobile suit wobbling when he squeezed the controls too hard in his anger. "And I don't care what the simulations show, I _know_ we could have pulled it off!"

Tanaka was undoubtedly regretting bringing it up because he silenced them both with a deafening bellow: " _STOP ARGUING!_ "

Shouyou slumped back in his harness, breathing hard, and focused on calming his pounding heart and taking deep breaths. Every time he tried to talk to Kageyama, they wound up bickering again. Sometimes it was something stupid and sometimes it wasn't, but at its core they were always arguing about the same thing. "I just wish you'd trusted me, Kageyama," he said wearily.

" _Hinata, enough!_ " Tanaka growled. " _I said stop_."

" _What would you have done, Lieutenant Tanaka?_ " Kageyama asked, his voice full of frustration.

" _Me?!_ " Tanaka asked, taken aback. " _I... uh... look, it doesn't matter what I would've done. It doesn't even matter what_ you _two did or didn't do. It's past, it's done. You gotta focus on the present. And stop fucking arguing!_ "

They flew on for several more minutes, tense and silent. Shouyou put on some upbeat pop music to try to cheer himself up again, but after a couple of tracks he shut it off again, still too worked up to enjoy it.

He couldn't see how they'd ever restore the trust that they'd built up between them. It was always lopsided anyway, Shouyou necessarily being the junior partner, the one that had to follow Kageyama's instructions, so maybe it was for the best. Maybe now he could find a way to stand on his own feet.

But that Quickshot... It had been an incredible feeling, especially after they'd worked on it all those weeks. It made Shouyou feel _powerful_ , unstoppable.

Idly, without really concentrating, he adjusted his course to avoid a piece of debris in his path. It was only after he'd flown past it that the debris registered with his brain.

"That was a Gundam," he muttered, disbelieving. "I'm sure of it."

Again, without really thinking, he stopped his suit and went back, slowly. Like being on autopilot. His breath caught in his throat as he activated the floodlights and cones of bright light lit up the remains of an old mobile suit. It was facing away, so he rotated around to see it from the front, but he already knew what he was going to see.

A Gundam. One of the legendary prototype mobile suits that had dominated every war of the Universal Century.

Some people claimed there was nothing special about a Gundam, that it was just another mobile suit — usually an impractically expensive one. "Wars are won with numbers," they'd claim, "not one-off, over-engineered prototypes." They'd point to the number of enemy units destroyed by the common workhorse mobile suits like the GM series and compare that against the much smaller number taken out by Gundams.

Such people had obviously never seen a real Gundam in action. Shouyou had; those childhood memories remained forever burned into his brain, together with the sense of awe and wonder he'd felt. And even the most sceptical critics had to admit that they were dreaded by their enemies. There was a certain mystique about them, not least because a Gundam always seemed to be present at the most critical points in history.

This one was torn up pretty badly, scarred and missing an arm, so he struggled to identify the exact type — but there was no doubt: it was a bone fide Gundam.

Tanaka's impatient voice broke into his worshipful trance. " _Hinata, what the hell are you doing now?_ "

"Gundam!" he squeaked. "Tanaka, I've found a _Gundam!"_

It was an older model for sure, maybe from the Gryps Conflict about ten years ago. Modern mobile suits had stayed roughly the same size but had become bulkier and heavier, packing more weapons and armour onto their frames and requiring correspondingly more powerful thrusters and reactors. But there had been a phase when mobile suit design went the other way, back before defensive technologies had caught up with new developments in offensive power; back then, the philosophy had been that the best way to survive was to not get hit at all, resulting in lighter, more agile mobile suits.

Like the one he was staring at.

" _Okay_ ," Tanaka admitted, hovering nearby and illuminating the mobile suit with his own floodlights. " _Yeah, that kinda looks like one. It's cool and all, but we need to keep moving._ "

"I'm taking it back with us," Hinata said, already reaching out to grab it.

" _What? Why?!_ " Kageyama said. " _Don't be an idiot, Hinata. You can't haul that thing around for the rest of the patrol._ "

"I can and I will," Hinata said stubbornly, cradling the old Gundam in his Avenger's arms. It blocked most of his forward sensors, which wasn't ideal, but he wasn't going to leave it behind.

" _Hinata..._ " Tanaka sighed.

"It's mostly intact," Hinata said, trying not to wince at the grinding of metal as the Gundam shifted in his Avenger's grip. "Maybe we can repair it. We're meant to be salvaging as well, right? If nothing else, we can use it as spare parts."

" _Alright, but if we run into trouble, you'll have to drop it,_ " Tanaka said.

" _You're just letting him take it with us?_ " Kageyama demanded.

"Aww, are you jealous of my new Gundam?" Hinata cooed.

" _SHUT UP!_ " Tanaka shouted. " _In fact, no more talking at all, got it? Zip it. I want radio silence from now on, please._ "

" _What if we spot some useful salvage?_ " Kageyama asked. " _Or some hostiles?_ "

Shouyou could picture his expression — nose crinkling, brows drawn tightly, all angry and confused. "We keep quiet and let them shoot us," he said, rolling his eyes. "What do you think, Kageyama?"

Tanaka groaned. " _Fine. Silence unless it's very important. Which arguing is not._ "

It was a good thing their patrol was mostly complete, because between the boredom, a persistent ache in his side, and the fact that the old Gundam took up most of his forward view, Shouyou was more than ready to head back. But despite the arguing earlier, he found himself in a good mood, switching on the music again and bobbing his head in time to the beat. He'd found a _Gundam!_ What were the chances? Maybe it was a sign that his luck was about to change. And all the best pilots had flown Gundams, right from Amuro Ray as the very first. He wondered who had flown this one; maybe even Amuro himself? Maybe if the technicians could repair it, he'd even get to fly it himself! Then he wouldn't have to borrow other people's mobile suits anymore.

" _Trouble,_ " Kageyama warned.

Shifting the Gundam so he was pulling it along by its remaining arm (and hoping he didn't rip it off), Shouyou ran a hand absently over his injuries, soothing the twinges of pain there as he studied his sensors. It was difficult to make out details at their current range, especially with the burst of Minovsky particles drowning everything out, but it looked like a bunch of unidentified mobile suits were escorting a cargo ship. The freighter was drifting, but it had power — its running lights were lit.

" _Hang back a sec and get behind some cover_ ," Tanaka ordered.

Shouyou scratched his cheek, trying to make sense of his sensor readings, while he manoeuvred his Avenger (and its tag-along partner, the Gundam) behind the slowly spinning wreck of a frigate. "Who are they?"

" _Pirates, I think,_ " Tanaka said; he was speaking quietly as if he was afraid of being overheard.

" _Do we engage?_ " Kageyama asked.

They were clustered closely and the interference made it hard to tell, but there were nine or ten mobile suits out there, maybe more. If Kageyama had his Conductor, they could have used the Quickshot and stood a good chance — assuming they were still capable of pulling it off after all their arguments — but 3 against 1 in the middle of a debris field with no support suits was enough to make even Shouyou think twice. He hadn't expected to encounter any trouble when he'd asked to go out; none of the other patrols had run into anything.

Tapping the control console nervously, he remembered his promise to Ennoshita and wondered whether the pirates would just go on their way without ever noticing them. That would probably be best all round — nobody would get hurt.

Evidently Tanaka agreed. " _Too many. Let's watch and wait. Hopefully they'll move on after raiding that transport._ "

Shouyou's fingers froze. "Is that what they're doing?" he asked, frowning. "I thought it belonged to them."

" _It probably does, now,_ " Tanaka replied darkly. " _This is what pirates usually do — they ambush a lone ship somewhere, force it to go somewhere quiet and out of the way, and then they take whatever they want from it. Cargo, passengers, salvage, sometimes even the ship itself..._ "

Shouyou bit his lip, knowing exactly what the other two would say, but he had to ask. "So shouldn't we help?"

" _Do you have an actual death wish?_ " Kageyama demanded.

The argument was forestalled when combat broke out. The mobile suits up ahead had been clustered in two groups, one in front and one behind the transport, and now they were shooting at each other. One group, featuring yellow and white paint jobs, buzzed around erratically in pairs, while the others — in green and black — maintained a tighter formation and used the transport itself as cover. It was as though a swarm of angry wasps had run into a gang of praying mantises.

" _Looks like they're doing our job for us,_ " Tanaka said, amused.

"But the transport!" Shouyou protested, seeing a couple of shots graze it. "There might be innocent people on board, and it's caught right in the middle!" He tightened his grip on his controls and took a few deep breaths in anticipation. No matter what the other two said, he wasn't going to sit back and let more innocent civilians get hurt. Not after Miyagi. He had a debt to repay.

Hopefully Ennoshita would forgive him if tore any of his wounds open...

" _We should wait,_ " Kageyama said, but he didn't sound as arrogantly certain as he usually did. " _We're still outnumbered._ "

" _Not if we pick a side,_ " Tanaka said. He must have been thinking about Miyagi as well, because his voice was full of grim determination. " _Yellow or green._ "

"Yellow," Shouyou said at once, instinctively choosing the brighter colour.

" _Alright,_ " Tanaka said eagerly. " _Hinata, drop that heap of junk and both of you get ready. Follow my lead — with a bit of luck they'll be distracted and won't see us coming until it's too late. Target only the green guys. If the yellow guys attack us, we run. Got it?_ "

Reluctantly, Shouyou nodded, but he understood the odds. "Got it." He did his best to memorise the location of the Gundam so he could find it afterwards and jetted after Tanaka and Kageyama as they charged forwards.

The battle had only been raging for a couple of minutes, but so far it had been more of a skirmish — both sides testing each other. The Yellows were flying in perhaps the strangest style Shouyou had ever seen — erratic and agile, divided into three pairs, darting in to strike their opponents then darting away again. They lived up to their wild yellow paint jobs, buzzing around like wasps and stinging the Greens with some seriously unorthodox weaponry. One even looked to be using a _harpoon_ of all things!

The Greens, on the other hand, were being much more cautious: they were sticking together, focusing on one pair of Yellows at a time, and taking advantage of the Yellows' reluctance to shoot the transport. They also had the stronger mobile suits: mostly GM IIIs compared to the old Hizacks and Zaku IIIs the Yellows fielded. As he closed, Shouyou discovered there were actually five Greens, as one was hanging back by a big chunk of shattered colony debris and sniping from behind cover.

Tanaka took advantage of the Greens' preoccupation by swinging around in a smooth arc to hit the them from behind. They weren't taken totally by surprise — a couple of them started shooting at the trio of Avengers as they closed in — but they were slow to react, and that gave Shouyou, Tanaka, and Kageyama a few free shots before they had to break off and evade. Shouyou definitely hit one, because he saw its pilot eject and the suit exploded a few seconds later. Tanaka's spray-and-pray approach damaged another two.

" _Lucky shot,_ " Kageyama muttered jealously, just audible, and Shouyou grinned in triumph. Then Kageyama showed off his lethal aim by literally beheading the sniper hanging back in the debris. Unsurprisingly, the decapitated mobile suit promptly fled.

" _Oi,_ " Tanaka said loudly, broadcasting over all channels using his radio. " _You guys in yellow need a hand?_ "

An eager whoop of excitement was his only reply.

The Greens must have known they were in trouble, because they immediately pulled back to try to gain more room and speed. Sitting behind the transport gave them good cover from the front, but because they were virtually stationary and all clustered together, they made for sitting ducks from the back. Until then, the Greens had been faring well against the Yellows; one pair had been knocked out completely, with one suit destroyed and the other disabled, and a second pair had also taken minor hits.

But having being forced from their hiding place, the remaining Yellows were able to swarm them, zipping around and hitting the Greens from multiple different directions while Shouyou and the others kept up the pressure from the back. One more enemy suit was hit, trailing sparks, and then they gave up, burning away at top speed while launching smoke canisters and putting as much debris behind them and their pursuers as possible. Shouyou initially gave chase, caught up in the moment, but then he remembered the transport and the Yellows, whose gratitude was uncertain.

" _Thanks man! We were in trouble until you showed,_ " a random, excited voice said over the crackly radio comm.

" _Nah, we had it under control!_ " someone else said.

" _Tell that to Numajiri._ "

" _Is he okay?_ "

" _He's fine, I'm tracking his pod."_

Shouyou blinked, trying to make sense of the flurry of different voices. "Who are you guys?" he asked, switching his radio to broadcast to everyone.

" _Oh! Right! Forgot about you for a sec,_ " the second voice said; he had to be either very confident or very forgetful. " _We're Johzenji. Who the fuck are_ you _?_ "

He hadn't thought that far ahead. It's not like he could just come out and say they were from the solar system's most wanted ship. "Uh..."

Tanaka and Kageyama had both formed up on his position; meanwhile, one of the Johzenji mobile suits was checking on their downed members while the remaining three were closing in.

" _Shit, those are Feddie suits! They're navy!_ " another voice said.

" _What the fuck are they doing here?_ "

" _Oi Feddie fucks! Whaddaya want?_ " the confident voice asked — probably their leader given how cocky he sounded.

Over the laser links, using their private Karasuno channel, Tanaka cleared his throat. " _Hinata, take the left. Kageyama, the right. I've got the one in the middle._ "

For a second, Shouyou felt like someone had tossed a coin in the air, and now it was spinning as it fell back down, the outcome hanging in the balance. With unshakable certainty, he knew that if he didn't act, more people were going to die.

Johzenji might be pirates, but they weren't shooting right now, and killing them without warning after helping them seemed... wrong. Just wrong. Especially when they seemed willing to talk. Maybe they'd even be willing to return the favour and help the _Karasuno_ somehow? It's not as if they would have any love for the Junta either.

Besides, every life he saved — even if they were pirates — was one more to repay his debt.

"Wait!" he shouted, speaking to everyone. "Wait a minute, nobody shoot, _please_." He moved forward ahead of Tanaka, blocking his shot. "Um, I'm Hinata. You said you're Johzenji, right? Who's your leader?"

" _I am!_ " the cocky voice said, at the same time someone else said, " _Misaki!_ "

" _What the fuck?_ I'm _the captain._ "

" _Yeah, but Misaki's the boss and you know it._ "

There was a sigh, then a laugh. " _Yeah, okay. But she's not here right now. That makes me the boss_ and _the captain._ "

Despite the tension, Shouyou found himself smiling. If these guys had a sense of humour, hopefully he could deal with them.

" _Hinata..._ " Tanaka growled, half warning and half question.

"Look, just let me try talking to them, okay?" Shouyou replied, still speaking over the general channel. "Trust me."

There was a grunt of disbelief from Kageyama, but he didn't matter; Tanaka was in charge. " _Hmph. Go on then,_ " Tanaka said after a moment. " _But be careful what you say. And if they so much as twitch..._ "

" _Why should we?_ " Johzenji's leader asked at almost the same time.

" _Because we just saved your lives, for starters,_ " Kageyama snapped, using the public channel now.

"Not helpful, Kageyama," Shouyou said, his blood pressure already spiking like it always did when Kageyama spoke. "But he has a point. What's your name, Captain Johzenji?"

" _Huh! Captain Johzenji. I kinda like that. But you can call me Teru. So why's a trio of fancy Feddie suits skulking around the Shoal Zone?_ "

" _They don't look that fancy,_ " another Johzenji pilot pointed out. " _Look at 'em. They're all beat up._ "

" _Still better than ours, Bobata. Maybe we could steal 'em?_ "

Shouyou squawked with indignation. "Hey. You know we can hear you, right? I know you're pirates, but come on. You can't steal _everything_." He flipped up his visor to wipe sweat out of his eyes, thinking fast. What did he know about pirates? Was there anything he could use to persuade them not to fight? But all that came to mind was childhood stories of old Earth pirates, the swashbuckling ones who used to sail around on the sea with parrots and wooden legs.

" _I reckon they're just stallin' for time,"_ Bobata said. " _We should just kill 'em quick and get out of here before more of 'em turn up."_

Shouyou bit his lip, his hands trembling as they gripped the controls. Shit. Shit! _Think, Shouyou, think_...

And then a new voice cut through the rest: " _Hey, Teru, I think Tsuchiyu's hurt!"_

It took him a moment to locate the source of the transmission: the fourth Johzenji suit, a Zaku III that had gone to check on the casualties. It had collected the ejection pod from the destroyed mobile suit and had now flown over to a badly damaged Hizack. Both cockpits were open and it looked like the pilot of the Zaku was floating over to investigate. Shouyou wondered how bad it was, remembering the state of his own cockpit after Miyagi...

... and just like that, the answer came to him.

"We have medics," he said quickly. "Proper doctors with modern equipment. If you hear me out, maybe we can make a deal and sort things out so nobody else has to get hurt."

 _"Oh? What sort of deal, exactly?_ " Teru asked, equal parts intrigued and suspicious. " _And why should we trust you? Bobata's right, you might just be stalling._ "

"Well, we did help you with those Green guys —"

" _Fuckin' Nohebi_ ," another one cut in.

"— sure, Nohebi," Shouyou continued, thinking fast. "That has to earn us something, right? We could have taken you on as well. Instead we're offering to help you and your injured pilot. But we're low on supplies thanks to, um, the civil war, y'know? We're Rebels, which makes it hard to know who we can trust these days. You might be pirates, but you're not shooting at us, which is more than a Loyalist warship would do for us. So maybe could be friends, work together a bit? You know, you scratch my back, I scratch yours?"

" _You got a rash or something?_ " one of the other Johzenji pilots asked, causing them all to start laughing. Shouyou flushed but he clamped down on his irritation and waited.

When the laughing died down, Teru hummed thoughtfully, an exaggerated, drawn out noise. " _I dunno_ ," he said. " _Seems to me like we'd be better off shooting you three right now and keeping that fat, juicy transport all to our—"_

_"Fuck! Oh god, hold on Tsuchiyu... just hold on. Teru! Teru, what do I do?! There's blood everywhere..."_

The note of sheer panic in the Johzenji pilot's voice sliced through the communications channel like a blade.

" _Okay, so stop the bleeding and get him back to base, Higashiyama,_ " Teru said, but he sounded much less confident all of a sudden. " _Kuribayashi can patch him up there."_

" _You don't get it, Teru. He's gonna need more than first aid!"_

Shouyou went back to tapping on the console. "We can help," he promised. "No tricks. You have my word, one pilot to another."

There was a long pause. " _Fuck it,"_ Teru said. " _Alright, you've got a deal. You help Tsuchiyu and we'll split the loot 50/50. But any tricks and you'll regret it."_

" _Hinata, dumbass! You know that's piracy, right?_ " Kageyama said, speaking privately over the laser link. " _Are you crazy?_ "

"Gimme a sec," Shouyou told Teru, before changing channels. "Look, these guys seem friendly and right now we're about as friendless as you can get."

" _They're_ pirates," Kageyama said scornfully, apparently deciding that was all that needed to be said.

Tanaka, on the other hand, was more receptive. " _We're already outlaws, I guess_ ," he said dubiously. " _But we're supposed to be hiding. We can't just fly back with a gang of pirates in tow. Ukai will literally skin us alive if we lead them back to the ship. And just because they tell jokes doesn't mean they're nice guys. You've not run into pirates before — I have. They're criminals for a reason, Hinata._ "

Shouyou's eye was drawn to the damaged transport ship. He wondered what the crew aboard thought was going on. They were probably scared out of their wits. Nohebi obviously didn't care about their lives, but what about Johzenji? Would they simply kill them all when they boarded to steal the cargo?

He felt awful for negotiating when someone was potentially bleeding to death, but Tanaka was right: there was more at stake here than just one pirate. There was everyone aboard the _Karasuno_ , not to mention the civilians on that freighter.

"So we make it part of the deal. We help, but only if the crew of that freighter are allowed to go free. And maybe we can use the freighter itself as neutral ground — bring the medics here on a shuttle, rather than lead pirates back to the ship?"

" _But then we might as well be bringing hostages to the pirates,_ " Kageyama said. " _You can't trust them. They're criminals, remember?_ "

Tanaka groaned. " _Dammit, I hate being responsible for shit_." He paused for a moment, apparently thinking, before sighing. " _Fine. These guys already know we're here now. If we make a deal, we can at least keep an eye on them and stop them doing anything to the crew of that ship_."

Shouyou punched the air in victory. "Awesome." He swapped back to the general broadcast; the pirates were discussing something else.

" _—ay we just leave him there after what they did to Tsuchiyu._ "

" _What kind of revenge is that? We should bring him aboard, beat the shit out of him, then shove him out the nearest airlock._ "

" _Or keep him as a pet! I always wanted a pet snake._ "

" _You're sick, Futamata,_ " Teru said, with a hint of admiration.

"Uh... hello again?" Shouyou said uncertainly, suddenly much less confident. "What are you talking about?"

" _That Nohebi bastard who ejected_ ," Teru said. " _We think he's still alive. You Feddies finished conspiring now? So what's it gonna be?_ "

Shouyou swallowed nervously. Maybe Kageyama had a point, but if there was a chance to get everyone out of this without anyone else being killed, it was worth a try. Though Tanaka was probably going to kill him for what he was about to say. "How about this," he said. "We use the transport as neutral ground. We bring some of our medics here to treat your friend and you give us some supplies in return."

" _... alright_ ," Teru said slowly. " _I'm sensing a 'but'. What's the catch?_ "

"We might be Rebels, but we're still navy. We're not murderers," Shouyou said firmly. "Nobody hurts the transport's crew — we'll look after them. And... and the Nohebi pilot, we take him prisoner."

Tanaka spluttered, a wordless promise of future retribution, but he managed to hold his tongue.

Teru was making that obnoxious hum again. " _If you want to put up with a bunch of sobbing nobodies, that's no skin off our nose_ ," he said. " _But the Nohebi guy is ours._ "

Shouyou bit his lip, hesitating. Teru sounded pretty pissed off, but Shouyou wasn't willing to hand over someone to get tortured or murdered. Or made into a pet? Honestly that sounded even worse. "Not if you're going to mistreat him," he replied, making his decision.

" _You don't know Nohebi like we do,_ " Teru said angrily. " _They're sneaky little shits and they keep trying to swipe our scores out from under our noses. And you wanna know what_ they'd _do with the transport crew?_ "

"What?" Shouyou asked, dreading the answer.

" _Uh... Well,_ " Teru said. " _Actually I don't know either, but I bet it's super twisted. Some really sick shit._ "

"Uh huh," he said dubiously. "So what would _you_ do with them if we weren't here?"

" _Probably get 'em drunk, see if any of 'em are rich and then hold them for ransom?_ " Teru said. He phrased it as a question, like he was asking Shouyou's approval.

" _Yeah, Misaki would kick our butts if we did anything bad to 'em,_ " another voice cut in. " _'specially if there's kids._ "

Tanaka joined the conversation. " _Look, we're wasting time. What's it gonna be, Captain Johzenji? Deal or no deal?_ "

" _Yeah, yeah, whatever,_ " Teru said. " _You can have your snake if you really want him, and the crew. But if you ransom them, we want half._ "

" _We're not going to ransom anybody,_ " Kageyama spat. " _We're not pirates._ "

Teru laughed. " _Oh yeah? Well we are, and we're giving you half the stolen cargo from that pirated transport ship. So what do you think that makes you, if not pirates too?_ "

" _Still not pirates!_ " Kageyama snapped.

"Real smooth, Kageyama," Shouyou said, shaking his head. "Real smooth."

" _Fuck off._ "

"No, you fuck off!"

" _SHUT UP!_ " Tanaka yelled. " _Oh my god, what a fucking day..._ "

 

* * *

 

Of all the crazy things Ryuu had done — and he'd done plenty, especially when drunk — making a deal with a bunch of pirates in the middle of a civil war had to come top of the list. He knew, 100%, that he was going to regret everything about this day, assuming he lived to see the end of it; there was a very real possibility that Ennoshita would shoot him, or if he showed mercy, that Ukai would have him spaced instead. Probably naked. His frozen, naked corpse would drift through the Shoal Zone for eternity, a warning to future generations that some deals come with too high a price.

Maybe he should have stopped Hinata. Or said no to the deal. Or just shot the pirates; they could have taken them, he was sure. But Ennoshita had put him in charge of the patrol, and even if he was sure that his three Avengers could take out four poxy pirates, he wasn't so sure he could do it without either Hinata or Kageyama getting hurt. And after what the _Karasuno_ had been through, not getting his friends hurt had rocketed pretty much to the top of Ryuu's priorities.

So he'd agreed.

Then he realised he was going to have to send someone back to the ship to let them know what the hell was going on. He couldn't go himself and leave Kageyama and Hinata behind by themselves, which meant he had to send one of the two rookies, and in the end he decided to send Hinata — partly because it was his idea and partly because, as a cute little ball of orange fluff, he was least likely to get brutally murdered by Ennoshita or Captain Ukai. Not that Hinata had realised, but everyone had kinda adopted him as an unofficial mascot. Noya insisted he brought good luck, so maybe if he went, it would all work out.

Of course, Hinata had then picked up that battered old Gundam on his way back, towing it along like a kid skipping along with a teddy bear clutched in one hand, and Ryuu added Chief Takinoue to his mental list of people who would want to kill him.

It was definitely a personal record. The day was not even halfway done and already he'd racked up a gang of pirates (two gangs if you counted Johzenji), Ennoshita, probably Kuroo, Captain Ukai, and Takinoue (and probably the entire hangar crew along with him). And when Noya heard about it, _he'd_ want to kill Ryuu simply because he was pissed off about missing all the fun.

So yeah. Crazy day.

But he was stuck with it now, so he might as well make the best of it. Tasking Kageyama with retrieving the Nohebi pilot's escape pod, he moved closer to the transport and kept a wary eye on things, hoping that Johzenji didn't pull anything tricky. For their part, once they'd agreed, Johzenji left behind two mobile suits — including their leader Teru — and sent the other two still operational back to their base or mothership, taking the injured pilot with them for the time being.

Teru, apparently bored, struck up a conversation while they waited. And unbelievable as it was, Ryuu found himself getting along with the guy.

" _Oh yeah, Misaki's terrifying!_ " he was saying. " _Like, she's all calm and polite most of the time, but when she gets angry, wow, it's like a volcano going off, y'know? Even scares me, and I'm scared of nothing._ "

Ryuu grinned. "Sounds a bit like my bosses too."

" _Misaki's not that bad_ ," said the other Johzenji pilot, a guy called Bobata. " _But Teru's got a crush on her, so he doesn't like making her mad._ "

" _I fucking do not!_ "

" _C'mon Teru, it's obvious._ "

" _You wanna fight, dude? 'Cos we can fight right now._ "

Ryuu only managed to avoid laughing by faking a coughing fit, but at least it distracted the other two. "So, do you guys have a mothership or something? Or a hideout somewhere?"

" _Why would we tell you, Feddie scum?_ " Bobata said.

Teru laughed, fondly repeating "Feddie scum" a few times. " _We've got a little hidey-hole,_ " he admitted, " _but we don't invite people back to our place on a first date. Sorry."_

" _This is a date?_ " Kageyama asked, confused; honestly he'd been quiet so long that Ryuu had forgotten he was still there.

"It's a joke, dumbass," he said, laughing along with the two Johzenji pilots. Or maybe Kageyama was trying to make a joke too — it was impossible to tell with him.

Chatting with Johzenji helped pass the time, but Ryuu also learnt a few interesting things in the process. There were a few other pirate bands operating in and around the Shoal Zone, not just Johzenji and Nohebi. Nohebi were the sneakiest, however; Teru claimed that they had "agents" in nearby colonies who would let them know when juicy targets were passing by, and spies and probes to watch other pirate bands and steal their prey out from under them at the last moment. The mention of probes was worrying; Ryuu hoped they hadn't spotted the _Karasuno_ yet. And Bobata let slip that Johzenji's six mobile suits (well, four and a half now) were all they had, and keeping them supplied and running was difficult — hence the unorthodox weaponry, like harpoons and giant nets.

Johzenji's backup arrived first in the form of a small transport — about half the size of the one they'd captured — and the two returning mobile suits. It left Ryuu uncomfortable, since he and Kageyama were now outnumbered again, but Johzenji seemed content to sit and wait for the _Karasuno_ 's contingent to get there and made no hostile moves. The only exception was when one of the captured transport's engines flared to life and Teru flew in front of it and threatened to blast them unless they shut it down again. Ryuu chipped in, giving them assurances that nobody would be harmed, and tried to pretend that this wasn't really an act of piracy but a "legitimate requisitioning of assets in a time of war", a phrase Ennoshita had used a couple of weeks back when stealing a sausage from Ryuu's plate.

Yeah. Not very convincing, even to himself.

When reinforcements did finally arrive, he let out a long sigh of relief. Five mobile suits — Kuroo, Kozume, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi, plus Hinata returning — accompanied two of the _Karasuno_ 's four shuttles. They were approaching from an odd direction, suggesting they'd taken a roundabout route to throw off anyone attempting to figure out where the ship was, but since Hinata had headed straight back — since neither he nor Ryuu had thought to do otherwise — it was probably too late.

" _So, Tanaka,_ " Kuroo said once he was in range. " _I'd stay clear of Ennoshita for a few days. Maybe weeks._ "

"He's mad?"

" _He said he'd kick you in the arse so hard that you'd be able to taste his toes._ "

That won a snort of half-strangled laughter from Kageyama and a long groan from Ryuu. "Shit," he said. "What did the captain say?"

" _Yeah, maybe stay out of his way too. But he agreed to hear Johzenji out, as you can see. Takeda's in one of the shuttles — he's taking the lead. But he wants you and Hinata to join him, since you're the ones who started this whole party._ "

The shuttles — carrying marines and some medical staff — and Johzenji's transport all docked with the captured freighter. Ryuu and Hinata — as the two who had been communicating with Johzenji and who therefore had built up a rapport with them — popped their cockpits and went to board as well, once the marines had given the all clear. Kuroo promised to keep an eye on things on the outside and warned them to be careful, but with a dozen marines on their side, Ryuu wasn't worried. He'd seen what those guys could do; a bunch of pirates were no match by comparison.

The air aboard smelled of smoke, reminding him of the _Karasuno_ in the hours following the battle at Miyagi, before the air scrubbers had filtered it all out. It was an old ship, but well looked after (until it had been ambushed by pirates, at least). Ryuu waited with the pair of marines guarding the airlock for Hinata to join him, and then together they went to meet their new "friends".

They found everyone in a rather tense stand-off in one of the cargo bays. The ship's crew — about ten people, including a pair of scared children — were clustered in one group, where Takeda was calmly enduring a middle-aged woman shouting in his face. Hinata's doctor friend, Yachi, was briskly checking the other crewmembers over, fussing particularly over the children. The other medics were nowhere to be seen, probably already inside the pirate ship, but there were plenty more marines: two were flanking Takeda; two were guarding the captured Nohebi pilot, his head bowed and his wrists cuffed behind his back; and the rest had taken up positions around the cargo bay, on guard and ready for anything.

Standing by the opposite hatch and watching everything warily were a trio of young guys who were likely Johzenji, judging by their rough-and-ready outfits; one had his hand on the pistol hanging at his waist, but he didn't dare draw it in front of the marines. With them was a young woman — not much older than Ryuu, he thought — with her arms folded, watching with a sour expression on her face.

Ryuu made his way over to Takeda first, Hinata following at his side.

"If you're navy, why the hell are you working with these pirate scumbags?" the angry woman demanded, gesturing wildly at the group of stone-faced Johzenji by the hatch. "They attacked our ship! They could have killed us, killed my kids!"

"And as I've told you," Takeda said calmly, "the situation is now in hand. I assure you, nobody will be killing anyone."

"So why are they here? Why can't we leave?"

Takeda's gentle smile took on a pained edge. "I'm afraid that won't be possible quite yet." Seeing Ryuu and Hinata, he held up a finger. "Please excuse me a minute." He hurried over, glad of the respite, and stopped in front of them both with a stern expression. "You've placed us in a very difficult situation here."

Ryuu glanced down at Hinata, who was shrinking in on himself, and nodded. "I know. I'm sorry, sir," he said. "How can we help fix it?"

Takeda removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Let me handle the crew. You talk to Johzenji. See if they will permit the ship to leave _without_ looting everything of value." He put his glasses back on and gestured at the people behind him. "Captain Murray and her family are understandably concerned that they're about to lose their livelihoods if not their lives. And while our situation is certainly desperate, it's not desperate enough to steal from innocent civilians. I may be able to persuade them to part with some supplies in gratitude for saving them, but not if Johzenji are intent on pillaging everything else."

"I'm sorry," Hinata said in a small voice. "It was all I could think of to stop everyone shooting each other."

Takeda patted him on the shoulder. "Don't be too hard on yourself. You turned a difficult situation into a potential opportunity. But now I need you to play your part and help to resolve this peacefully. We don't need any more enemies right now." He shifted his attention to Ryuu and added, "De Ruyter sent along something that may help with that."

Ryuu followed Takeda's gaze towards one of the nearby marines, who was holding a box in one arm; bottle tops protruded from it. "Drinking on duty?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and grinning at Takeda.

"I'll overlook it this once, given the extenuating circumstances," Takeda said wryly. "Go on now, see what they say. But be careful and remember: _do not tell them who we are_."

Taking the box, Ryuu walked over to meet some pirates face-to-face for the first time in his life. Two of them — the woman and a guy who looked like he'd escaped from a juvenile detention centre — came forwards to meet him.

"Where's your injured pilot?" he asked.

"We have a small medical unit on our ship," the woman with them said, her lips pressed together tightly with worry. She was very pretty, with amazing, big brown eyes, but the glare Ryuu got from the delinquent guy standing next to her quickly put an end to his ogling. "Two of your medics are there with him. Along with some of your gorilla-like marines." She narrowed her eyes, studying him with a slight frown. "Thanks, I guess. He was pretty beat up."

"Uh, you're welcome," Ryuu said uncertainly.

"Hey, I recognise your voice," the delinquent guy said suddenly. "You must be Tanaka, right?"

Ryuu folded his arms and looked down his nose. "Who wants to know?"

"I'm Teru." He matched Ryuu's pose, glaring at him, until the woman smacked him on the back of the head.

"Behave yourself, Terushima!"

Chastened, he held out his hand instead. Ryuu slowly relaxed, shaking it firmly (and squeezing harder than necessary, which Teru matched). Teru grinned at him, obviously amused, and turned to Hinata. "Let me guess," he said. "If he's Tanaka, you're Hinata, right?" He chuckled, ducking his head so that they were eye-to-eye. "You're not what I expected, short stuff."

Hinata bristled at the implied insult but he stilled when Tanaka put a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, I'm Hinata," he said. "You're not what I expected either. I thought you'd have an eyepatch."

Teru stepped back, momentarily stunned, then everyone burst out laughing — Teru, the woman, Ryuu, and after a moment Hinata joined in too, though he was blushing. "Sorry to disappoint," Teru said once he'd calmed down. "But y'know, I might get one. It'll make me look more intimidating."

He didn't need much help with that. His hair was a shock of long blond hair on top, swept back, with a dark undercut at the back and sides; his ears were full of piercings, including a little silver skull in the cartilage at the top of each ear, and peeking out of the collar of his pilot suit was the top of a tattoo running down the side of his neck. The skintight yellow pilot suit did nothing to disguise his solid muscular build, even decorated as it was with a huge, stylised skull across the chest and twin silver cutlasses on the side of each leg. Hanging from the belt at his waist were a pair of large, well-worn pistols; Ryuu was no weapons expert, but even he could recognise that they probably had the firepower to punch through a sheet of hull plating.

Hinata elbowed him and cleared his throat, making Ryuu realise that he'd been glaring at Teru wordlessly for several seconds. He turned to the woman and put on his most charming smile, the one that Noya said made him look seductive but that Ennoshita claimed made him look like a deranged shark. "So you must be the famous Misaki, right? I've heard a lot about you from Captain Johzenji here."

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, but Ryuu was gratified to see Teru turn bright red and start spluttering. "I am," she said, shaking his hand firmly; her grip was almost as strong as Teru's, and she met his eyes with a fearless glare. For a moment, not that he'd ever admit it to Noya, he felt his dedication to his goddess Shimizu waver. "Now, can you _please_ tell me what all this is—"

"Misaki!"

They all turned to see another yellow-clad Johzenji pilot hurrying over to them. The two by the hatch — presumably guards — had tensed up too, hands on their weapons, though they hadn't drawn them yet.

"What is it, Numajiri?" Misaki asked, in the sort of tone that implied it better be important or else.

"Misaki, they want to take Tsuchiyu away!" He glared at Ryuu and Hinata as if they were to blame.

Misaki glared too, hands on her hips. "We'll see about that," she said sharply, stalking off towards the hatch.

Ryuu made to follow as well, but his path was blocked by Teru's outstretched arm. "Where do you think you're going, buster?" he said, a razor edge to his grin now.

"Let them come, Teru," Misaki called over her shoulder, pausing at the hatch. "You come too, or you'll only get into trouble. Iizaka, Higashiyama, stay here and keep an eye on things. Let me know if anything happens but do _not_ pick a fight with anyone, understand?"

"You got it, Boss."

Making their way past the guards and their hostile stares, Ryuu and Hinata followed Misaki through the freighter's airlock and aboard the pirates' transport. Teru brought up the rear, which left a persistent itch between Ryuu's shoulder blades; it didn't help that every time he glanced back, Teru would offer him the sort of grin you'd see on a mugger in a moonlit alley.

They arrived at the tiny medical unit — not much more than a bed and a diagnostic scanner — to find a tense standoff: while one of the _Karasuno_ 's doctors worked on an injured man, the other was arguing with a woman in Johzenji colours. A wall of four marines stared down several more pirates, preventing them from interfering.

"What's going on here?" Misaki demanded, grabbing a rail and coming to a halt right next to the marines. She tried to get past them but they wouldn't budge; that riled up the pirates even more, who began yelling, and Ryuu began to lose his own temper.

"Will everybody just CALM DOWN?!" he yelled, loud enough to make Hinata wince next to him.

The shock of it had the desired effect as everyone turned their attention to him. He hesitated a second then gestured at the marines. "Stand down," he told them. "Let her past."

Misaki offered him a cautious nod of thanks as the marines made way for her. "Will somebody explain what's happening please?"

The doctor who was arguing turned to address her. "You're in charge?" he asked impatiently.

"Yes," she replied, looking past him at Tsuchiyu. "How is he?"

The injured pirate was a small man, about Hinata's size, and barely conscious; his light brown hair was plastered to his face and scalp with sweat and he was struggling weakly against the medic working on him, whimpering in pain and fear. His left leg was badly burnt and his bare chest was covered in blood, several globules of which had escaped to float around in the air above.

"We've done our best to stabilise him," the doctor said. "But you don't have the facilities here to treat him. He need surgery, in a _sterile environment_ , with the _right equipment_ , not... this." He gestured around  the ramshackle medical unit in disgust. "So decide: let us take him back to our ship, where we can help him _properly_ , or keep him here and watch him die slowly and painfully."

Ryuu sucked in a breath and exchanged a worried glance with Hinata, whose eyes were wide.

"And let you take him hostage? No way," one of the Johzenji pilots insisted. "We're not idiots!"

"Enough, Futamata!" Misaki snapped. She was trembling, her eyes on Tsuchiyu, groaning on the bed. "Kuribayashi?"

The Johzenji woman who had been arguing with the doctor hesitated before shaking her head. "He's in a bad way. But can we really trust them?"

Misaki considered it only a few seconds before making her decision. "If they really wanted to do us harm, they would have already," she said. "And if they can help Tsuchiyu then we've got no choice but to trust them." She turned back to Ryuu. "I have your word you'll give him back to us?"

Ryuu had no idea what the plan was, or even if there was a plan, but he doubted the medics were lying: if they said the pilot needed surgery, then he needed surgery. "Yes," he said, trying to sound as confident as he could.

"Alright." She sighed, rolling her neck and massaging it with one hand. "Alright, take him." Looking around at the other pirates, she added, "Can I have a volunteer to keep him company?"

"I'll go," Futamata said, shooting a glare at the marines.

"Good. Come with me, then. I'll see you both off."

After a flurry of activity, the medics sedated Tsuchiyu and guided him carefully through the air back towards the airlock, accompanied by Misaki, Futamata, and the marines.

Which left Ryuu and Hinata alone aboard a strange ship with a bunch of pirates.

Hinata seemed oblivious to the potential danger. "She's really cool," he said, watching her go.

"I know," Teru said wistfully.

Ryuu knew that tone. "She doesn't like you, huh?"

"I'm working on it," he replied, his mournful expression transforming into a cocky grin. "So. My new friends. What's in the box?"

Taken aback, Ryuu opened it to reveal a dozen bottles of pretty decent beer; he wondered how Takeda had managed to get De Ruyter to part with them. "Peace offering," he said. He considered a moment, thinking, then held one up. "Wanna share?"

Teru took it and studied the label, his grin widening. "Maybe you're not so bad after all, Feddie scum."

 

* * *

 

Johzenji were not what Shouyou expected at all of pirates. For the most part, anyway. He figured they'd be grizzled, older, prone to casual acts of violence and possibly own at least one foul-mouthed parrot. Instead they were young, cheerful, and — especially when the beer began to flow — loud. They were more like excitable, playful puppies than pirates. But there were reminders: the large guns most of them carried, the scary tattoos, and the wild, colourful clothing they wore.

Tanaka took to them quickly once his initial suspicion wore off (and once he had downed a bottle of beer). He quickly won respect after winning an arm wrestling match with Teru; in fact after his first loss, Teru insisted on best of three, and though Tanaka lost the second round, he won the third quite comfortably. Between that and his gift of alcohol, it was like Johzenji had suddenly adopted him as one of their own, all earlier suspicions forgotten. Before long, they were swapping tales, eating snacks (and flicking peanuts at each other), and giving each other dating tips that Shouyou was fairly sure would never work.

As fun as the pirates were, however, Shouyou was mindful of Takeda's instructions (and the fact that this whole mess was his fault), and decided that he ought to be focusing on learning what he could rather than being tempted to join the festivities. So with the excuse of needing the toilet, he poked around Johzenji's ship a little. Johzenji's transport was compact but functional, structured as a series of compartments in a long line: engine room aft, cargo bay, some cramped living quarters amidships, and then a cockpit at the front. The living quarters were arranged around a cluttered central room that served as kitchen, mess hall, and entertainment centre. It was littered with all sorts of junk (Johzenji were clearly not big on cleanliness), ranging from small crates of random looted goods, scattered clothing, musical instruments, and a couple of very big rifles, but it was oddly homely and welcoming.

The hatches to the engine room and cockpit were understandably locked, and by the time he made his way back to the main compartment — where Tanaka had somehow gotten dragged into a game of darts — Misaki had returned. As she watched them play with weary amusement, Shouyou grabbed a bottle of beer and wandered over to join her.

"They look like they're having fun," he commented.

She chuckled, nodding. "They usually do," she agreed, before giving him (and his rank markings) a shrewd look. "I hear you were the one who brokered our 'deal'."

"Um, yeah, about that," he said nervously. "How angry would you be if we didn't loot the captured transport?"

Misaki raised an eyebrow, then took him by the elbow and led him further away from the rowdy darts game. "Going back on your word already?"

He shrugged helplessly. "I'm only an ensign. I don't get to make big decisions. But even though I'm a soldier, I don't think fighting is always the right answer, you know? I fight to protect people, not hurt them."

While she pondered that, he sipped at his drink and checked on the darts game. Teru was winning easily, judging by his cheers, and a red-faced Tanaka was gulping down his beer to console himself. He hoped Tanaka didn't have too much; they still had to fly back to the _Karasuno_ , and there was a lot of debris floating around outside.

"I don't disagree," Misaki said eventually. "About fighting, I mean. But you can see what these guys are like. They put a lot of work into this job and one of them got seriously hurt seeing it through. Do _you_ want to tell them that they're not going to get anything from it?"

Shouyou definitely did not. "My commander is going to ask the freighter crew if they're willing to part with some supplies, a kind of thank you for helping them," he said hopefully. "We can split those? And we did help your injured pilot."

She shrugged. "Which we're grateful for. But that doesn't mean we're happy to let you push us around."

"But we can't just steal everything from that transport," he insisted. "The family that owns it would be heartbroken. The kids would cry and everything."

Misaki gave him a flat look. "It's not like I enjoy being a pirate, you know," she said. "It's just a matter of survival. Besides, freighters like those are insured. We don't take their ships and we don't hurt the crew if we can help it, so they can run back home and file whatever paperwork they need and be back up and running within a couple of weeks. Meanwhile, one haul like that will see us through a couple of months, maybe more."

Shouyou bit at his lip, uncertain. When she put it like that, piracy didn't sound _that_ bad. "I think you'll need to talk to Commander Takeda," he said. "But I still think it's wrong to take more than they're willing to give. Besides, do you even know what cargo they have?"

She shrugged. "More or less. Actually it's not that interesting — mainly agricultural machinery and supplies, which isn't much use to us. Not unless we decide to start our own farm, at any rate. But they have some other stuff that might be useful as spare parts, and they have plenty of food and a ton of water."

He nodded slowly. "I bet they'd be willing to share food and water if we asked nicely and promised to escort them out of here safely. Maybe even some spare parts too. But if we left them with the farming stuff, that's probably where most of their investment is, right? So everyone's happy, or at least nobody is too _un_ happy."

A smile slowly spread across Misaki's face. "You remind me a bit of myself, a few years ago," she said. "Wanting to do the right thing."

"So how did you end up as a pirate?" he asked her, before glancing at Teru and the others. He lowered his voice. "Did they, you know, take you prisoner or something? Because you could always come back with us if you wanted to escape."

"What? No!" she said, laughing. "Don't worry, I'm not a prisoner." Her smile faded and she shook her head, eyes defocusing as she remembered. "It's... complicated. A lot of bad luck and hard choices, mainly."

Shouyou tilted his head, hoping to encourage her. "Oh?"

Misaki sighed. "Our parents were part of a Neo Zeon cell, fanatics, hiding out in secret in the hope that the rebellion would come again one day," she said. "But when it didn't, they decided to try to spark one themselves." Wrapping her arms around herself, she offered him a bleak, humourless smile. "Didn't work out so well for them."

He winced, wondering if he should give her a hug or something, but he decided to hold back in case the other guys got the wrong idea. "That's why you use Neo Zeon suits," he realised. "I thought maybe you'd scavenged them."

"Oh, we did that too," she admitted. "But yeah, that's how we started off. Family heirlooms, you could say."

Shouyou looked away sadly, thinking of his own family. He tried to imagine what it would have been like for Johzenji, losing their parents like that. "But in that case, why are they all so... uh, excitable?" he blurted out as the thought entered his mind. "Um, sorry! I don't mean to be rude."

Misaki smiled, but it was another of those sad, hollow smiles. "I think they feel it's better to enjoy each day to its fullest, since they don't know if they'll see tomorrow."

"I'm really sorry." He sipped his beer, tapping the beer bottle idly a few times, and then risked another question. "But how did you end up as pirates?"

She sighed again, playing with her hair. "At first, some of us wanted revenge. And we'd all been trained how to fight, how to pilot mobile suits. So we ambushed a patrol once, getting into a nasty battle. But what did it gain us? Nothing. We were just risking death by fighting someone else's war. Teru and the others didn't want to listen at first, but after another bloody battle, I got them to take their lives more seriously. With the help of a few friends here and there, we were able to stay off the radar and made a living of sorts as pirates." With a nervous chuckle, she backed away from him half a step, raising her eyebrows. "I probably shouldn't be telling you any of this, should I? You're the enemy."

He shrugged. "I won't tell," he promised; it wasn't like he was in a position to arrest anyone anyway. "But why not go legit? Join a colony, get normal jobs and lives?"

"Because this is all we've ever known," she said, gesturing at the messy room. "Besides, who'd give homes and jobs to a bunch of kids of Neo Zeon zealots? Ones with no money, no proper education or qualifications, and whose only real skills are how to kill people? We're outcasts."

Shouyou stared at the floor, shaken. More and more of his assumptions were being overturned today. Pirates were always just 'the bad guys' in his head; he'd never really thought about why they did it. He'd certainly never imagined he'd be drinking beer with them.

"We're outcasts too right now," he said, looking up again to meet her surprised eyes. "You know the civil war that's going on?" She nodded. "We opposed martial law. We didn't want to use force against innocent people. So we became outlaws — rebels. And I never thought we'd ever think about stealing from an innocent transport, yet here we are. So... I guess I can understand, a little, where you're coming from."

Her smile was more genuine this time. "You're an interesting guy, Hinata," she said. "Not what I expected a Feddie soldier to be like at all."

He smiled back. "You're not like the pirates I expected either. I mean, apart from not having parrots and eye patches."

"Don't give Teru any ideas. I'm sure he'd love a parrot." She hesitated, then nodded to herself firmly. "Look, I can't make any promises, but I'll talk to your commander. See what we can agree." Then she patted him on the arm and headed out.

Tanaka and Teru were engrossed in some story one of the other pilots was telling, so Shouyou finished his drink and was about to go over to listen in when his pocket comm beeped. "Hello?"

" _Shouyou, I need a favour_ ," said Kenma.

"Okay, sure! What is it?"

" _I've been reviewing the battle data from Kageyama's mobile suit. You went up against Nohebi, right?_ "

He nodded. "Yeah, I think that's what they were called. They had green mobile suits — old GM IIIs. Want me to see if I can dig up intel on them?"

" _In a way. The captured pilot — can you talk to him? Maybe earn his trust?_ "

Shouyou chewed on his lip. "Kenma, what's going on?"

" _We've run into Nohebi before. Nekoma, I mean. They're smart and slippery and therefore dangerous. If they figure out which ship we belong to, they could report us for the bounty. So we need to stop them._ "

"Wait, there's a bounty on us?!" Maybe they really were turning into pirates! "How much?"

Kenma gave one of his cute little _fufufu_ laughs. " _I think you're getting sidetracked, Shouyou. Kuro thinks maybe we can use their captured pilot as leverage, to make sure they don't turn us in._ "

"What, as a hostage?" Shouyou asked, frowning. "That's a bit... I dunno, Kenma. Holding people hostage is the sort of thing the bad guys do."

" _He's already a prisoner, Shouyou_ ," Kenma pointed out. " _And we're not going to mistreat him. If Ukai agrees, we can even let him go when we leave the Shoal Zone. We just need Nohebi to not cause any trouble before then. With any luck, they won't want to report us if it will put one of their own at risk._ "

He was mindful of the ruckus earlier with Johzenji's injured pilot and Tanaka's promise to return him unharmed. If he looked at it in a certain way, it wasn't that dissimilar, as long as they kept their word and did let him go at the end.

"Alright," he said dubiously. "But what do you need me for?"

" _If we're going to negotiate with Nohebi, we need to know how to contact them. We're hiding, remember, so it's not like we can just send out a general broadcast to anyone in the region. But the pilot will probably know a more secure way of reaching them."_

"And you want me to persuade him to share it?" Shouyou said. That seemed unlikely... but he could see why it was worth trying. "Okay, since it's you, I'll go talk to the guy."

" _Thanks, Shouyou. I knew you wouldn't let me down._ "

After ending the call, Shouyou left his bottle floating where he'd left it (it's not like the place wasn't already a dump) and decided to recruit Yachi for his next mission. She was impossible to dislike and about as harmless looking as it was possible to be, so if anyone could help talk round an angry, suspicious prisoner, it'd be her.

He found her just aft of the living quarters, in the small medical unit, with a marine escort and a Johzenji pilot. Although they'd taken Tsuchiyu back to the _Karasuno_ , some of the other Johzenji pilots had been a bit banged up, so Yachi had stayed behind to see to them.

"Psst! Yachi?" he said, calling from the door. The Johzenji pilot — Numajiri, if he remembered correctly — and the marine both gave him stony stares.

By contrast, Yachi smiled when she saw him. "Hi Hinata!"

"Is he okay?" he asked, nodding at the pilot.

"He will be," she nodded. "Just finishing up now."

"Awesome! Do you think I could borrow you when you're done?" He explained what he wanted and, although nervous, she agreed to meet him back on the captured freighter. Leaving her to finish, he set off — taking a wrong turn and ending up in the Johzenji ship's cargo bay by accident — before finding the airlock and returning to the larger ship. Takeda was still talking to the crew, though he had managed to calm them down, and Misaki had joined in too. Shouyou ignored them and floated over to the opposite side, near the airlock where the _Karasuno_ shuttles had docked. Four more marines were there, maintaining a loose but watchful guard over the Nohebi prisoner. They stiffened as he approached, and the leader — a corporal — saluted.

"I'd like to talk to the prisoner," Shouyou said, using a nearby crate to anchor himself and return the salute (a bit sloppily; his instructors at Yukigaoka would have scolded him).

"Be my guest," the corporal replied.

As he approached, the prisoner gave him the once over before dismissing him. He was tall, about as tall as Kageyama, but his messy light brown hair reminded Shouyou of his own; his expression looked bored and totally disinterested, as though being captured was an everyday occurrence for him, not even a minor inconvenience. That said, he did shift his arms a few times — probably discomfort from having his wrists bound behind him. His pilot suit was nothing like the wild, colourful suits that Johzenji wore; it was dark green with yellow highlights at the shoulders, and unlike Terushima's, it was completely plain aside a utility belt. If he'd had a weapon, it had already been confiscated.

"Hi," Shouyou said, moving closer so they could talk quietly. "I'm Hinata."

Up close, Shouyou realised the pilot wasn't as calm as he appeared. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and although his expression stayed neutral, his eyes were darting about a lot, perhaps searching for escape routes or watching for threats. When he spoke, those eyes landed on him for a few seconds before continuing their nervous scan of their surroundings. And he was younger than Shouyou thought — probably his own age or thereabouts.

If Shouyou were in his position, captured by enemies and all on his own, he'd be scared out of his wits, but he could respect the pilot's wish to appear confident and aloof. "Do you need anything? Some water maybe?"

No reaction, not even a glance this time. He was ignoring Shouyou completely now. "Look, it's okay to be scared. But we're not going to hurt you, I promise."

That _did_ provoke a reaction, but only a brief frown in his direction, like the pilot thought he was lying or trying to trick him.

"You're from Nohebi, right?" he asked. No reaction. "Will you tell me your name, at least?" Nothing. "Look, I only want to talk. You _can_ talk, can't you?"

He'd hate to play cards against this guy. He didn't so much as twitch. It was like he wasn't listening at all.

Growing frustrated, Shouyou was wondering what he could say to get through to him when Yachi arrived to back him up. "Hinata?" she asked, observing the prisoner curiously. "Is this him?"

"Yes," Shouyou said, smiling. "I'm thinking of calling him Mr Green, since he won't tell me his real name. Or anything else, for that matter."

Yachi maintained a safe distance, well out of arm's reach, and frowned at 'Mr Green'. She clutched her medical kit protectively to her chest, though whether it was to prevent him from snatching it or to shield herself, Shouyou wasn't sure. "I'm Hitoka Yachi," she squeaked. "I'm a doctor. Trainee doctor. Are you hurt at all? You look pale."

Now that she mentioned it, the guy did look pale. And he was still sweating, despite the cool air of the cargo bay. Shouyou frowned, checking him again for signs of injury, but there were no burns or bloody rips in his perfectly clean pilot suit. "Is it just the handcuffs that hurt?" he asked. "I promise, we only want to help. If you're in pain, tell us."

Mr Green's eyes flickered between them uncertainly.

He certainly wasn't going to make this easy. But Kenma had entrusted this task to Shouyou, and Shouyou was determined to give it his best shot. And if that meant taking a few risks, then so be it. Making the first move had paid off with Johzenji so maybe it would pay off with this guy too.

Backing up, Shouyou turned to the corporal. "Can you give me the key to his cuffs?" he asked.

The corporal frowned, peering past him at the prisoner. "That's a bad idea, sir. He's unarmed but that doesn't mean he's defenceless."

Shouyou nodded. "I'll be careful. Besides, you four are here to keep an eye on him, right? He's not going anywhere. But if he needs medical treatment, we can't do that with his hands bound. He'll need to take off his pilot suit."

Reluctantly, the corporal handed over the little key fob and Shouyou circled around the back of Mr Green to release him and retrieve the cuffs. The moment he did, he backed off, his hand on his small service pistol just in case Mr Green tried anything, but the pilot only rolled his shoulders and rubbed at his wrists.

"Well?" Shouyou asked as he circled back around to the front. "If you are hurt, now's the time to say so, Mr Green."

Mr Green didn't say a word, but he did give them a reluctant nod and reached to unzip his pilot suit as far as his navel, before pulling the right side of his suit down with a wince. Doing so revealed a mass of bruising and swelling across his right side, over his ribs.

Yachi immediately sucked in a breath, narrowing her eyes, and reached into her medical bag. "Give me a hand, Hinata," she instructed, her nervousness gone now that she was in 'medical mode' as Shouyou called it. "Help him take his arms out of the sleeves."

Shouyou paused, removing his pistol and tossing it towards the corporal (he might be trusting but he was not a _complete_ idiot), then moved close enough to help. Before he did anything else, he raised his eyebrows in a silent question, and only when the Nohebi pilot nodded did he help the guy pull his arms out of the sleeves. Like most pilot suits, it was tight and made of thick, rubbery material, designed to keep air and heat inside even if it suffered a tear. That was good for survival but it did mean that getting in and out of them was difficult at the best of times, let alone when you were injured. The movement forced a hiss of pain from Mr Green, the first sound he'd made the whole time.

With that done, Yachi moved in, first peering closely and then very carefully probing the injury with her fingers. She noted his wincing and frowned. "Please, tell me how it feels," she said gently. "I don't want to make anything worse simply because you don't want to talk. And it'll help me diagnose what's wrong." She ran her fingers across the worst of the swelling, barely touching. "Here. What does it feel like when you breathe? Sharp, stabbing pain or just an ache?"

"Sharp," Mr Green admitted, avoiding their eyes. He had a deep voice, though a bit breathy thanks to his injuries. Shouyou noticed he was taking short, shallow breaths only.

"Has he broken his ribs?" he asked Yachi.

"I think so," Yachi agreed, "Two, maybe three of them in fact." She took out her stethoscope and shifted so she could look the pilot in the eye. "Listen, I know it hurts, but I need you to try to take a full breath, okay?"

He nodded and did so, scrunching his face up in pain but without making a sound, then let the air out in a ragged sigh.

"The lungs sound okay," she said, nodding to herself, "but I don't like all that swelling." She rummaged in her bag and withdrew a small vial and a syringe. "I'll give you something for the pain first."

He eyed the needle warily until Shouyou chuckled and said, "Don't be a baby. Yachi's very gentle, you'll barely even feel it. Trust me, I know."

But as Yachi went to inject it into his shoulder, Mr Green snapped into motion; he groaned with the pain of it, but a second later he'd snatched the syringe from her hand and had wrapped his other arm around her neck, pulling her close and holding the syringe against her throat. The four marines all raised their guns, moving to get clear shots.

Shouyou instinctively launched himself backwards in shock, and had to grab onto a nearby crate to stop himself from careening across the cargo bay. "Not cool, Green!" he said, his heart hammering. "Yachi's trying to help you!" Poor Yachi had frozen, her eyes wide with fear as she tried to look down at the syringe. It had pricked her skin just enough to draw a tiny bead of blood.

"Sorry, but it's my only way out," Mr Green said.

"Don't think so, kid," the corporal said casually.

"He's right," Shouyou said. "They'll blow your head off before you can blink, and that's only painkiller in that syringe, not poison."

"Depends where you inject it," Green said, but he was eyeing the marines warily.

Shouyou offered Yachi a reassuring smile and raised a hand, palm up. "You're not doing yourself any favours," he said, trying to sound calm despite the pounding in his chest and the thumping in his ears. "Look, I know you're a pirate, but we don't have to be enemies here. We want to make a deal with your boss." He winced, trying not to think of it as hostage taking, and said, "We'll even let you go later, once we're sure it's safe."

"You'll say anything if it'll convince me to let the girl go," Mr Green replied. "I'm not stupid."

Shouyou glared at him. "Could have fooled me," he shot back. "Threatening the doctor who was trying to help you? Thinking you can escape with broken ribs and four marines pointing guns at you?"

"Hinata," Takeda called. "Everything okay over there?"

Shouyou turned to see they'd attracted an audience: Takeda, Misaki, a couple more marines, and the crew of the transport were all watching in concern.

"I've got this," he said, waving back. "Don't worry. It'll be fine."

This was his mistake. It was up to him to fix it, ideally without anyone else getting hurt. Somehow.

Returning his attention to Mr Green, he closed to just outside arm's reach and stopped in front of him. "Alright buster," he said, more confidently than he felt, "here's the deal. Let Yachi go right now, and we'll forget all about this. Help us contact your leader and I _swear_ , nobody will harm you — you have my word." Then he tilted his head and let his expression go slack, staring into Mr Green's eyes for a count of five. "Or don't, and I'll let the marines here do what they do best. What's it to be?"

He waited, not blinking, but in his head he was crossing his fingers, hoping against hope that the pirate would make the sensible choice.

Mr Green sighed, slowly moving his arms to release Yachi and drop the syringe, which floated away. "Sorry, Doctor," he said as Yachi leapt towards Hinata, hugging him tightly. Shouyou patted her on the back, making soothing sounds, and nodded at the Nohebi pilot.

"Good choice," he said, giving him a stern glare, then he ducked his head to whisper to Yachi. "I've got you, Yachi. You're okay now, I promise."

She pulled back, tears in her eyes and her bottom lip quivering, and nodded. "I'm sorry, it's — I was... It's just the shock, I'll be okay in a minute."

"You should take a break," he told her.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'll do it. Just... give me a minute."

Yachi let go of him and went to collect up the syringe and other medical gear. While she did, Shouyou reached for the handcuffs he'd attached to one of the magnetic clamps on his belt.

"Sorry about this," he said as he approached Mr Green. "But you did just threaten to kill my friend, so..."

Mr Green didn't resist as Shouyou snapped the cuff on his left wrist, but he did grunt in surprise when Shouyou then attached the other side to his _own_ wrist.

"Will you tell me your name now? I'm sick of calling you Mr Green," Shouyou said.

He sighed. "Kugiri. My name's Kugiri."

Shouyou raised their hands. "Alright, Kugiri. Let's talk while Yachi does her thing."

 


	20. Substitute Support

Kenma reached out to grab his bottle without looking, squeezed it into his mouth, and only when nothing came out did he tear his eyes away from his computer screen.

"Huh. Empty," he realised, tossing the bottle over his shoulder to land on his bed with a soft thud. He'd get a refill later.

But now his concentration had been broken, and the various sensations of his body returned one by one: his legs prickled from sitting in one position too long, his bladder was full, his eyes itched from staring at the screen, and his mouth and throat were both parched. He sighed, debating whether it was worth getting up or whether he could tough it out a bit longer.

Because he was _close_ , he just knew it.

Ever since the Battle of Miyagi, part of his brain had been constantly at work trying to piece together the giant jigsaw puzzle. Who sent those mysterious mobile suits after them? Why? Was it connected to Silhouette and the trouble being stirred up on Miyagi before the battle? Who sent Silhouette there in the first place? Why send him there at all?

_Why_. That was the question that had stumped him the most. Why all that effort for Miyagi? It wasn't a strategically important colony; it had no real importance at all in the grand scheme of things. He could buy the idea that similar agents were at work on other colonies too — that Miyagi wasn't unique in that respect — but Miyagi was the only one that had been so dramatically attacked by mobile suits.

Then he'd realised that was a clue in itself. Logically, whether he understood why or not, the attack meant Miyagi _was_ important. And the only possible justification he could come up with for attempting to massacre an entire colony was to cover up the events around Silhouette. Both physical and electronic evidence would have been destroyed, while the endless news stories of the battle drowned out any mention of an agent provocateur at work on the colony. The only times Kenma had heard it mentioned at all were usually in the context of fringe conspiracy theories that suggested Silhouette was really working for the _Karasuno_ all along, and when he was killed by the Miyagi authorities, the _Karasuno_ went to Plan B and destroyed the colony instead, perhaps out of revenge.

But Kenma needed more than hunches and vague conspiracy theories. He needed _data._ Which would be a lot easier to obtain if he was back aboard the _Nekoma_ , with no communication restrictions and access to whatever databases he needed. But he'd made do; like all warships, the _Karasuno_ regularly cached a ton of data to cover those periods when she was forced to go dark (like in battle or — like now — when trying to be stealthy), and he also had access to all the Silhouette investigation files he'd copied to his datapad. Plus he wasn't completely cut off: thanks to some relays and proxies set up by Johzenji in exchange for help fixing up their mobile suits, the _Karasuno_ maintained limited communications with the outside world. Though they could only access standard civilian networks, nothing military or anything else that would require them to identify themselves.

It had been enough for him to dig up plenty of clues; the hard part was making sense of them. There were still lots of pieces missing, but after days of research, Kenma thought he'd caught a glimpse of the picture. And it wasn't a pretty one.

First, though, he needed something to drink.

He stood up, nearly falling when his numb legs failed to move properly, and had to lean against his desk until they transformed back from jellyfish to human limbs again. Then after paying a long overdue visit to the toilet, he spent a few minutes preparing for another marathon session: splashing his face to wake himself up, grabbing another energy drink from his stash, and chewing thoughtlessly on a ration bar.

It took him another fifteen minutes to get back into his trance-like state of total focus. Three minutes after that, his hatch chimed. He lowered his head to his desk, closing his eyes, and sighed.

" _Kenma, it's me!_ " Kuro called through the intercom. " _Are you still alive in there? Nobody's seen you for, like, 36 hours._ "

Oh well. He stood up again and shuffled over to the hatch, stifling a yawn. "Kuro," he said in greeting, once it swished open.

"So you _are_ alive." Kuro's shrewd eyes scanned the room, lingering on the computer screen and the mound of empty energy drink bottles on the bed. "Or should I say undead?"

"My, what tasty brains you have," Kenma said dryly, reaching up to half-heartedly poke Kuro in the forehead. "Nom nom." He went back to his desk and sat down, gazing at the screen. Kuro followed him inside and set about tidying up.

"So, if you're this close to becoming a zombie, I'm assuming you found something?" he said, bouncing an empty bottle off the back of Kenma's skull to get his attention.

"Maybe."

Kuro waited several seconds. "Well are you going to tell me what, or am I going to have to sit on your bed and throw more bottles at you?"

Kenma sighed once more and spun around in his chair. A second opinion might actually be useful, even if only as a sanity check. "You know how when the police investigate a crime, they talk about means, motive, and opportunity?"

Kuro did sit on the bed, but he graciously refrained from throwing any other projectiles. "Yes...?"

"The only sensible explanation I can come up with for attacking Miyagi is to cover up whatever Silhouette was doing there," Kenma explained, pausing to suck down some energy drink; his throat was rusty after not speaking for so long. "The timing of the attack supports it, too; it was just long enough for someone to hear of Silhouette's fate and then send out a strike force in response — a strike force that already knew we were there, since they were using our IFF codes to masquerade as Nekoma and Karasuno. So the attack wasn't random."

"Alright, I'm with you so far," Kuro agreed. "That's motive. What about the other two, means and opportunity?"

Kenma shook his head. "That's not motive. Not really. The real question is why Silhouette was on Miyagi Colony in the first place: what was so important to cover up?"

Kuro frowned, scratching his ear. "At the time, I figured it was most likely the Junta trying to cause trouble and give themselves a pretext to declare martial law. Although after I spun that wild theory to Sergeant Weigand, the idea that it might all be a Neo Zeon plot got stuck in my brain. But I've had too much else to worry about since the battle to give it any more thought."

"Both logical assumptions in their own way," Kenma agreed, nodding. "Means, motive, opportunity: both have the necessary resources, both stand to gain. But I think Neo Zeon is less likely. They might react to what's happening, try to take advantage of it, but in general martial law and a military crackdown poses just as much a threat to them as everyone else."

"Unless that's the plan all along, and the Junta are secretly working for Neo Zeon?" Kuro suggested, waggling his eyebrows.

Some distant fuse popped in Kenma's brain as he tried to process that; a conspiracy within a conspiracy? "I suppose it's possible," he admitted reluctantly. "But it seems unlikely. If they had a plot that deep going on, there would be no need to get their hands on Laplace's Box and try to blackmail the Federation."

"But the Laplace Incident is what kicked off this whole mess," Kuro reminded him, grinning now. "If people hadn't suddenly found out that an entire clause of the constitution had been secretly removed, one specifically giving rights to spacenoids, there wouldn't have been any unrest in the colonies to play on."

Kenma sighed, mentally backtracking, cordoning that entire line of thought off with yellow hazard tape, and making a note to investigate it further some other time. Preferably after he'd had some sleep. "You're playing devil's advocate again."

"It's what I'm best at." But Kuro saw his mounting irritation and held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Sorry. Go on with your theory."

It took Kenma a few seconds to reorganise his thoughts — he really must be tired if it was taking him that long — and he took the opportunity to drink another few gulps. "I've been looking through everything we found out about Silhouette and Miyagi. Everything the police started to uncover about his network before..." He trailed off. _Before they all died in the attack_. "Anyway. He was definitely working with pro-Junta groups, trying to turn people against us and the Rebels. And he had zealots like Weigand on his side in the garrison, too. But he also had links with pro-Rebel groups, pacifist anti-military groups, even Neo Zeon supporters. In fact, he was probably the one behind a lot of the protests we saw outside Governor House. It looks like he was even behind some of the reactions to his own actions — not just protests, but riots against the military, gangs of vigilantes, that sort of thing."

Kuro absently bounced an empty bottle off his knee while he thought, like he was playing an imaginary drum kit. "Why play both sides like that? It doesn't make sense."

"It does if his goal was simply to sow chaos. To destabilise the colony. Like in your conspiracy theory: a third party might want to weaken both sides so they can sweep in later with little opposition."

The drumming stopped. "Are you saying this really is all a Neo Zeon plot after all?"

Kenma sighed. "Like I said, it's one possibility. It could also still be the Junta; their narrative is best served by creating chaos everywhere they don't control, so that they can portray themselves as the only ones capable of keeping the peace." He turned back to his screen — a spreadsheet full of names and numbers — and stared at it for a moment. "But neither answer quite fits. Most of the pieces line up, but not all."

"So if not the Junta and not Neo Zeon, who is it then?"

"I don't know," he said, scrunching up his face in dissatisfaction. It bugged him that he didn't even have any real theories. And he might be wrong; it might just be the Junta, or Neo Zeon stirring up trouble like they usually did; that would fit best with Occam's Razor. "But I do know _one_ thing for sure: whoever it is has been doing it for a while. Even before the Laplace Incident back in May, though it stepped up a lot after that."

Moving closer to look over his shoulder, Kuro hummed. "I could stand here and guess what your cryptic clues mean, but that would take ages and I'm sure you're itching to get back to work, so why don't you just tell me?"

After hitting too many brick walls yesterday, that morning Kenma had decided to gamble. He'd made the assumption that everything really was connected — that someone was stirring up unrest deliberately, seeding agents like Silhouette through the colonies, and covering it up when it went wrong. That was a lot of moving pieces, and no matter how hard you tried, with something of that scale there would be loose ends somewhere. If his assumption were true, there would be _some_ evidence, some trail. An operation like that would take organisation, communication, manpower... and funding.

"Well, Silhouette was working with a lot of different groups, all of whom need money. And someone must have being paying him and providing those funds in turn. And if we assume similar agents and groups were at work on other colonies, then they'd be getting money too, right?" he said, scrolling through the numbers. "So I was looking into the major protest groups, the ones big and organised enough to be registered as political entities. Which also means that any donations to them are a matter of public record — to prevent conflict of interest and that sort of thing."

Kuro snorted. "Yeah, like that stops them. All it means is that donors just hide their tracks better. And even then, there's basically a new scandal every week about dodgy campaign donations to one politician or another."

Kenma shrugged; he didn't care much for politics and rarely kept up with such news. "It's easy enough to funnel money through innocent channels, yes," he agreed, "but the donation itself still gets recorded. And even if there's lots of data, you can still look for patterns."

"Like you and Teshiro did with the datapads, back on Miyagi," Kuro said, nodding in understanding. "Okay, so what did you find?"

It was a shame Teshiro was still unconscious in medbay; he'd probably be a lot of help with this. "Like you said, it's easy to hide the identity of a donor — just give the money to someone else first, or better yet, a chain of people. Or companies, or charities, or whatever. And if it was a single donation to a single group, that would probably be enough. But multiple donations to multiple groups — that's harder to hide, especially when the average amounts suddenly jump up."

Kenma pressed a key and a set of yellow highlights appeared on the data, marking out specific donations. It had taken him most of the afternoon to put together a data mining algorithm that could do what he wanted, and then several more hours of tuning to get any meaningful results. But it had been worth it.

"No two of these donations come from the same source, as far as the record shows," he explained. "And the amounts are all different. But if you start looking for the forest amongst the trees, you can see patterns. Like the way all these highlighted donations add up to the same amount, every week, like someone had a weekly budget and was breaking it down into chunks to make it harder to track." He permitted himself a small smile of satisfaction. "If you look at donations to any single group, it's just noise, but put them all together..."

"...and the pattern emerges," Kuro said. He let out a low whistle and went back to sit on the bed. "Sometimes you scare me, Kenma. I'm just glad you're using your secret powers for good. Can you figure out where the money is coming from?"

"Not with the communications blackout," Kenma replied, his satisfaction giving way to frustration. "It was hard enough to get this far with all the restrictions Ukai put in place. And there's no obvious pattern I can see to the recipients. They're all over the political spectrum: anti-government protest groups, spacenoid independence movements, pro-Earth movements, left wing, right wing, anti-military, pro-military... they're fairly indiscriminate."

Kuro resumed tidying, sweeping the empty bottles into a bag to dispose of later. "Just like Silhouette." He crouched down and collected some of the fallen food wrappers from the floor to add to the bag. "So if you're right, someone's being spending a ton of money to stir up trouble right across the Earth sphere. Which is bound to have contributed to all the recent unrest to some degree."

"Exactly."

"Alright," Kuro said evenly as he returned to his seat on the bed, apparently content with the results of his litter picking. "But it doesn't help us much unless we know who's behind it. And if you can't trace the money, we've got no proof and no leads."

Which is where Kenma had got stuck a couple of hours ago, until he realised there was something obvious he'd forgotten.

"There _is_ another lead too, Kuro," he reminded him. He waited, a tiny smile on his face, to see if Kuro would get it.

He didn't disappoint. People tended to underestimate Kuro, or assume he was cunning and leave it at that, but he was also a lot smarter than he looked. He was the only reason Kenma made it through a lot of his exams, in fact.

Kuro looked up, eyes wide. "The mobile suits."

"Mm-hmm. We might have exhausted motive and opportunity for now, but there's still means to consider." There was no wreckage available to inspect, but the attackers had definitely used RHQ series mobile suits and those didn't just grow on trees. They were barely a year old and production was still ramping up; only two factories currently manufactured them, and most of those produced were being prioritised for major front-line units — carriers, battleships, elite teams in general. So 24 top-of-the-line mobile suits going missing ought to leave a hole in the records _somewhere_.

Which had been his focus when Kuro interrupted him.

"Want me to leave you to it, huh?" Kuro asked, amused. He stood up and rested both hands on Kenma's shoulders. "Okay. Let me know if you find anything concrete. And make sure you take a few breaks and get some actual sleep, zombie boy. Or you might just find a sleeping pill in your next energy drink."

It was unlikely to work; by this point Kenma's bloodstream was probably 50% caffeine and 50% sugar. But it was usually better to humour him than argue — Kuro could be stubborn.

"I will," he replied half-heartedly.

"You could at least try to lie convincingly," Kuro chided him. "But I'll come back to check on you anyway. I'm trying to organise a training session in the simulators with Shibayama and Tsukishima, but I'll swing by after that to make sure you take a break."

Kenma raised an eyebrow. "Tsukishima again, hmm?"

"We're going to have to work even more closely together now we're short on pilots," Kuro said defensively. "What's wrong with me teaching the rookies a few tricks?"

"Now who's lying?" Kenma said, exasperated. Kuro always did this: he _meddled_. He'd find someone he thought needed his help and then he'd pester them endlessly until they gave in and let him administer whatever remedy he deemed fit. It seldom ended well. "You need to stop trying to fix people. It's annoying."

Kuro folded his arms. "It's my job to look after my teammates."

"He's not your teammate."

"Shipmates, then."

Kenma rolled his eyes and sighed. "Whatever. Don't blame me when he loses his temper with you."

Victorious, Kuro ruffled Kenma's hair. "Give me some credit." Then he grabbed the bag of rubbish and opened the hatch only to reveal Shouyou in an almost exact mirror pose; they must have both gone to press the controls within a second of each other.

"Oh!" Shouyou said. "I'm sorry, Commander Kuroo." He hopped back, giving Kuro room to leave.

"Hey, it's Hinata, our resident snake charmer," Kuro said, giving him a smirk. "Your new pal got sick of you at last?"

Kenma spun his chair just enough that he could watch them in his peripheral vision. He'd heard about Shouyou's rapport with the prisoner (and Johzenji, for that matter), which had come as something of a surprise, especially after the incident with Yachi. But then again, Shouyou seemed capable of becoming friends with just about everyone — except Kageyama, perhaps.

"He's not very talkative," Shouyou admitted sheepishly. "I kept at it, but he wouldn't say much. At least he seems less frightened now. But when I said I might go do something else for a while, he said, 'Please do.' Which was a bit rude, don't you think?"

"He's from Nohebi, what do you expect?" Kuro laughed, clapping him on the back. "Has he said anything about contacting Daishou yet?"

"His leader?" Shouyou asked. "No. He probably thinks it's a trap — that we want to trace the signal or lure them out or something. But I'll keep working at it. He'll trust me eventually, I know it."

"Perfect," Kuro said, stepping out of the hatch. "But in the meantime, Kenma could do with a break too, I think. Why don't you 'distract' him from his work?" He flashed one of those infuriating smug grins of his at Kenma, who responded with a disgusted glare.

It was too late, however. Shouyou had already bounded inside, leaning on the back of Kenma's chair — bringing their heads _very_ close — and was staring at the screen. "Whatcha doing?" he asked perkily. "Looks complicated!"

Kuro leaned against the bulkhead beside the hatch, looming in the entryway, and leered. "He's trying to find exotic porn."

Shouyou jumped back with a squawk, as though even being near the screen was somehow morally questionable, while Kenma's face flushed hot enough to boil water. "Fuck off, Kuro," he snapped, hitting the override to close the hatch in his face, before turning to Shouyou, who was facing the opposite wall and not looking. It was exquisitely embarrassing, all the more so because he'd been doing no such thing.

"He's messing with us, Shouyou," he said unsteadily. "Also, you can turn around, there's nothing on screen." He frowned at Shouyou's alarmed reaction, adding, "What... what sort of p-porn were you expecting, exactly?"

Shouyou still hadn't turned around. The back of his neck and his ears were bright red. "Um, uh, I dunno, I mean it's none of my business, is it? Everyone's got their own thing, so you do you. No judgement."

Dammit, Kuro had broken him. With a sigh, Kenma got to his feet (his legs were already going numb again, maybe he really did need a break) and turned Shouyou around with a hand on each arm. "Look," he said, pointing at the screen. "Completely porn free. I promise, he was just stirring up trouble, like he does." He allowed himself a very small smile and said, "Well, unless your thing is spreadsheets, screens of code, and police investigation records."

Shouyou's eyes were wide, and he stared past Kenma at the screen — making sure, apparently — before dropping his gaze to Kenma's hands on his arms. Kenma immediately let go, his face growing even hotter, if that were possible.

"So," he said.

Shouyou cleared his throat. "So."

"Um. This is super awkward."

"It's fine if you want to find porn," Shouyou said suddenly, blurting it out like he could no longer keep it contained. "Absolutely fine. I mean, it's natural? Sort of, I mean porn isn't natural. Unless it is? Is there pornographic cave art somewhere? I should ask Tsukishima, he might know —"

Kenma buried his face in his hands, groaning loudly. "Shouyou — please, _please_ stop talking about porn before one of us spontaneously combusts." But then he chuckled shyly, raising his head long enough to add, "Also, asking Tsukishima that might not be the best idea you've ever had, but if you do ask him, tell me first so I can watch."

"I bet he really will know, though," Shouyou giggled. "Yamaguchi says he's into that natural history stuff, like books on dinosaurs and nature documentaries. So if anyone knows about prehistoric porn, it'll be him."

Kenma turned away to hide his grin behind his hair, and took his seat again. Shouyou hovered for a moment, still embarrassed, before sitting back on the bed with his legs crossed. Once he felt like his face was no longer on fire, Kenma adopted the same cross-legged position and rested his elbows on his knees.

Time to change the subject. He was too tired to guard himself properly; he'd end up saying or doing something he regretted. Or bursting into flames, whichever came first.

"I'm sorry for what happened with Yachi by the way," he said instead. He'd never intended any harm to come to anyone, especially not the kind doctor who had treated them both multiple times now. "Is she okay?"

Shouyou nodded quickly. "Oh yeah, I think so. She was shaken afterwards, but she insisted on treating Kugiri anyway. And Kugiri apologised, too; he really did seem sorry."

"Even so, you're being remarkably forgiving," Kenma said. "If I were in your shoes and he'd done that to —" _you_ , he thought, but he changed his mind at the last second, "— Kuro, I would have shot him. Or at least let him rot in his cell. I certainly wouldn't have spent hours keeping him company."

"You asked me to get him to trust me," Shouyou said, shrugging. "If I can get him to contact Nohebi, that's more important than revenge, right? And sure, I was angry, but he didn't actually hurt Yachi. I think he was just scared, though he's good at hiding it."

Kenma shook his head in wonder. "You're an interesting person, Shouyou," he said fondly.

"Besides," Shouyou added, grinning now. "Between you, Kageyama, and Tsukishima, I've had plenty of practice getting quiet, grumpy people to open up. So this guy'll be a piece of cake!"

"Grumpy?!" Kenma echoed, incredulous, but a smile somehow found its way onto his face when Shouyou burst out laughing. He rolled his eyes. "Or maybe you have a type, Shouyou."

"Oh god I hope not," he admitted with a shudder. "I don't think I could cope with all the arguing."

Kenma raised an eyebrow. " _We_ don't argue."

"Only when playing video games," Shouyou corrected. He smiled, warm and sunny enough to light up the room. "Wanna play now?"

With a backward glance at his computer screen, Kenma nodded. He could take a break for this. "I think I can spare twenty minutes." He grinned. "Which ought to be enough to beat you."

Shouyou laughed. "Bring it on, Kenma!"

 

* * *

 

" _Don't forget to move_ ," Kinoshita said. " _Just because you're further away doesn't mean you can't be hit._ "

"Got it," Tadashi said, kicking his Bombardier into motion. He knew he ought to be trying to make his course unpredictable, but it was hard to focus on doing that while also targeting and shooting.

He was in the _Karasuno_ 's simulator room, cooped up in a pod and running through different scenarios. After discovering him training on his own, Ennoshita had suggested he ask Kinoshita to give him some tips. Tadashi thought his motivation was as much to give Kinoshita something to occupy himself, but it was a good idea nonetheless. Fortunately Kinoshita had been eager for the distraction, so he was now observing Tadashi's flying in a neighbouring pod and providing advice.

The simulation they were running wasn't a complex one, but it wasn't easy either, and Tadashi's uniform was sticking to his skin with sweat. The two hours of training had tired him out, and the knowledge that he was being observed (even if it was only Kinoshita) was making him hesitant and nervous, which in turn made him jumpy and sweaty, which was only making him _more_ nervous.

He pulled the trigger a moment too early and his railgun round went sailing past his target. He swore and launched a missile instead, planning to guide it in manually. It tied up his attention and meant he couldn't focus on another target, but the missile would be much harder to evade as a result. Of course, he was so set on trying to hit his target that he forgot to vary his course, and a second later he was flailing in panic as shots impacted his Bombardier.

And then, once more, he was dead.

Tadashi sighed.

" _Alright, I need a break,_ " Kinoshita said. Tadashi hoped he wasn't too disappointed or angry with him. His help had been really useful so far — he hadn't had someone willing to watch and advise him like this since the academy. But they had been at it for a long time, and Tadashi was probably being inconsiderate in not giving Kinoshita a break; he was still healing, after all, and his unfortunate tendency to throw up at random times continued to plague him.

He popped his own pod and looked over. "Are you feeling okay, Kinoshita?" he asked. "Do you need some medicine, or something to eat or drink? We should probably stop anyway. I don't want you to overwork yourself on my account."

Kinoshita was in his pod, eyes closed, but he gave Tadashi a weary smile. "It's just a headache, Yamaguchi. I'm not dying."

All the same, Tadashi freed himself from his harness and floated over to check on him. It was scary how different Kinoshita looked now, sort of thin and drawn and older somehow, even without the cast on his left arm or the missing patch of hair that the medics had shaved away to get to his head wound. Tadashi found his eyes sliding away, fixing on the pod's controls rather than stare at the older pilot. He didn't smell so great either, a mix of body odour, vomit, and alcohol, but then Tadashi had pretty much woken him up when he visited him earlier.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. How could he have been so inconsiderate? He should have paid more attention, read between the lines. "I shouldn't have bothered you."

Kinoshita opened his eyes and frowned. "I said it's okay, Yamaguchi. I was bored out of my skull before. It's the motion getting to me, that's all."

Tadashi gnawed at the skin on the side of his fingernails, hesitating. He wanted to ask when Kinoshita expected to be able to fly again, but he wasn't sure whether that would be insensitive, or whether it was prying. "I should have been evading," he said instead. "I suck at multi-tasking though."

"Keep practising and it becomes automatic," Kinoshita said. He paused, gulping down air, and reached for a plastic bag he'd been carrying with him. "Oh please, not again..."

"Feeling nauseous again?" Tadashi asked, his eyes widening in alarm. "I'll go get you some water!"

He darted back to his own pod, grabbing his water bottle, and returned, all but shoving it in Kinoshita's face in his haste to help.

Kinoshita's complexion had paled, and he took the bottle, but he concentrated on his breathing for a minute. "I think I've got it under control," he said at last. "Man, I'm sick of puking though. I keep thinking at this rate I'm gonna end up throwing up my actual stomach, or my liver or something."

No wonder he looked thin and unwell; he can't have been eating very well, or keeping down what he _could_ eat. "Can't the medics give you something?"

"They have," he said, shrugging. "Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't." He took a swig from the bottle anyway before handing it back. "A distraction does help though, so let's try once more. It keeps my mind off things."

Tadashi heart swelled with sympathy; if he were bolder or knew Kinoshita better, he'd offer a hug or a pat on the shoulder or something. "Should we try the same scenario again?"

"No, let me set something up," Kinoshita said, hauling himself out of the pod and drifting over to the control console. "You get yourself strapped back in."

He did so, fastening the harness that would keep him from bouncing around his cockpit and wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers before reaching for the controls again. The panoramic display flared to life again as a new scenario began. "What am I up against?" he asked.

" _Two on one, no support_ ," Kinoshita replied over the comm. " _Two enemy Avengers. Try to focus on picking them off before they can close in on you — and remember to evade this time._ "

Tadashi gulped, watching his screens. He jumped at the beep that indicating his sensors picking up new targets and swivelled to face them, firing off a pair of missiles out of panic.

" _Stay calm_ ," Kinoshita told him. " _Focus._ "

Knowing that the missiles would probably miss or get shot down, he activated his thrusters and sent his Bombardier into a spin, then tried to line up a railgun shot. His first shot missed and he had to kill his spin to be able to aim better. Just as he was about to fire, a particle blast flashed past him and he flinched, yelping in alarm, sending his shot wide — nowhere near his target. He focused on trying to gain some distance again, evading as he did, but it only prolonged the inevitable: the Avengers were faster than his Bombardier. So he fired a few more missiles and a volley of rockets, hoping maybe to distract his enemies, then flew straight long enough to line up a proper shot.

"Yes!" he hissed, clenching his fist as his railgun round found its mark.

" _One down_ ," Kinoshita said, pleased. " _But the other one's close now_."

He was right, and that meant Tadashi was in trouble. His mobile suit was designed for combat at longer ranges, like a heavily armed sniper; at close range, it was much harder to hit things with the slow-firing railguns, his missiles had less time to accelerate, and his cumbersome suit made it harder to dodge.

The pod shook as an enemy shot smashed into one of his Bombardier's arms, tearing it off and sending him into a spin. He yanked frantically on his controls, turning into the spin rather than trying to correct it, and accelerating into a sort of corkscrew roll. He blind fired a flurry of EMP and smoke rockets from his remaining arm and another missile from the launcher on his back, then changed course and hoped he'd managed to elude his enemy.

" _Watch out, he's still coming —_ "

Tadashi saw it just as Kinoshita delivered his warning; the Avenger had ploughed straight through the smokescreen, catching him just as he was slowing to change direction — a sitting duck.

"Ahhhh!" Tadashi screamed, firing literally everything he had in sheer panic. The Avenger was so close, close enough that he could make out individual details without having to use magnification...

The screen went black.

With a sigh, he popped his pod open. Kinoshita was already floating over with a broad grin.

"A bit unorthodox," he laughed, "but you got him." He grabbed onto the edge of the pod and stabilised himself. "You have to try to stay calm though. I know it's hard — I'm not much better, believe me — but panicking is counterproductive."

Tadashi nodded, running both hands through his hair as he did. "I know. I'm sorry."

Kinoshita studied him for a few moments, his smile fading. "You're our only Bombardier now, you know that right? With me like this... And Nekoma don't have any now, unless you count Kuroo's Guardian."

"I know," Tadashi said miserably. "Why do you think I'm training? I don't want to be dead weight. I don't want to fail when people are relying on me."

He'd survived the Battle of Miyagi, coming out of it better than most — but to him, that was not something to be proud of. He'd had zero impact on the fight, not even landing a single hit, and the fact he came out of it virtually unscathed was mainly because he'd been hanging back at range, too scared to get close or take any initiative himself. When all the Conductors had been knocked out and their coordination fell apart, he should have chosen targets for himself, moved in to engage... but he hadn't. He'd hesitated. He'd _panicked_.

He didn't want to let everyone down like that again.

Kinoshita seemed to understand something of what he was thinking, because he reached out to squeeze his shoulder in reassurance. "You're a decent pilot, Yamaguchi. You just need to remember that, you know?" He chuckled and added, "Be more like Noya, or Hinata. Think 'I can do this!' not 'Oh my god I'm gonna die!' That's what I do when my nerves get bad — I think to myself, 'What would Noya do?' and try to act more like that."

Tadashi's lips quirked up into a small smile. "It's hard to imagine either of them ever being scared," he admitted.

"I bet they are," Kinoshita said, tapping his nose like he was disclosing an important secret. "But they're probably thinking, 'What would Kinoshita do?' and pretending they're not."

They laughed together, though it was weak and strained by the knowledge that neither of them would ever be as fearless as Noya or Hinata. But it was a good goal to have, and Tadashi had heard somewhere (probably from Tsukishima) that pretending to be confident could lead to actually being confident in time.

"Thanks, Kinoshita," he said, freeing himself from his harness. "This has helped a lot, I think."

Kinoshita shrugged. "I'm probably not the best teacher. I've still got tons to learn too. But I'm glad you think it helped."

Tadashi chewed on a finger, thinking. He didn't want to push Kinoshita, but he was desperate to try to get better, and he'd achieved more in a couple of hours with him than he had in a couple of days on his own. "Would you be willing to do this again tomorrow?" he asked timidly.

Kinoshita sniffed and tapped his chin. "I'll have to have my secretary check my busy schedule," he said, before breaking out into a grin. "But I think I can fit you in somewhere. Same time?"

"Yes please," Tadashi said, smiling back. "Thanks." He anchored his magnetic soles to the deck and added, "I'm heading to the mess next to get something to eat. Do you want to come?"

"Nah. I'm not hungry," Kinoshita said. "I'm gonna pop some painkillers and try to nap, I think."

"Oh. Okay," Tadashi said, disappointed. "Take care then."

"See ya tomorrow, Yamaguchi."

After they parted ways, Tadashi made his way to the mess. His thoughts were still on Kinoshita, wondering whether he should do something more to help him, which was why he almost ran into Kageyama as they each tried to pass through the hatch at the same time. For a second he thought they were going to get caught up in that awkward left-right dance as they both moved in the same direction, but then Kageyama confounded his expectation by simply standing still and glaring until Tadashi nervously stood aside.

"Should have shoved him out of the way instead," Tsukki said once Kageyama had gone. He was sitting at his favourite table (in the corner away from the serving area and the hatch, but with a good view of the rest of the room) and was nibbling on some form of food that Tadashi couldn't identify. The only other occupants were Fukunaga — in his usual spot on the big sofa in front of the viewscreen — and Shibayama, who appeared to have fallen asleep in an armchair with a datapad resting on his tummy.

After grabbing himself some chicken soup and a coffee, Tadashi sat down opposite and sighed. "I wish you wouldn't rile him up so much. Kageyama's scary enough when he's _not_ pissed off all the time." He frowned at whatever mysterious goop was on Tsukki's plate. "What _is_ that?"

Tsukki sighed, poking at it with a spoon as though probing it as part of a scientific investigation. "Inedible, mostly," he said. "Despite our recent acquisitions from Johzenji, stores are still low, so I'm having to expand my palate to more... experimental tastes. But I can safely say that this particular experiment was an abject failure."

"What's it called? I want to know so I can make sure I never order it," Tadashi said. It kinda smelled alright, but the pinkish cream colour, gelatinous texture, and troubling lumps in it were turning his stomach. "It looks like it's already been partially digested."

Tsukki favoured him with a small grin, which according to the Tsukki Humour Scale was basically a full-on laugh for most people. "Thank you for that pleasant imagery," he said, pushing the plate away. "You know, I think I'll keep you in suspense. From now on, your galley requests will be a game of Russian Roulette. 'Will my choice turn out to be a random pasta dish for the fifth time in a row? Or will my luck run out and this day will be the day I finally end up with the half-digested pink goo?'"

Tadashi sniggered in a very undignified way. "You're so cruel sometimes, Tsukki."

"I know, it's one of my few joys in life." His expression turned thoughtful and he gave the abandoned meal a considering look. "Maybe I'll recommend it to Hinata."

Tadashi nearly choked on his first spoonful of soup. He had to turn away and pound his chest to get his lungs working again. "You know he's got a weak stomach, Tsukki. He'll probably throw up at the sight of it."

"I stand by my suggestion," Tsukki said, pushing his glasses up. He looked rather pleased with himself, like a lanky, blond-haired demon who had just invented a new torture device. Probably the latest in a long line; Tadashi just knew that Evil Tsukki would be a prodigious inventor. His desk in Hell would be covered with 'Employee of the Month' Awards and prizes for innovation. And a Newton's cradle, which he'd play with whenever someone he didn't like was trying to talk to him.

Pushing the pink goo further away so it wasn't in his line of sight, Tadashi tried for a second spoonful. "Sometimes I wonder how you made it past the psychological screening, Tsukki," he said, bringing the spoon to his mouth.

"Rather easily, actually," he answered. "I simply lied my way through it."

Tadashi put his spoon down and waited until his laughter had subsided before trying to eat again. It wasn't safe otherwise. Tsukki was obviously trying to get him to spray soup everywhere. He decided to distract them both by changing the topic, searching the room for inspiration until his gaze landed on Fukunaga.

"Does Fukunaga even speak Spanish?" he asked. The Nekoma pilot was once again raptly watching some kind of old-fashioned melodramatic soap opera; the acting was visibly over-the-top, even if Tadashi couldn't understand a word.

"Honestly I have no idea," Tsukki admitted, twisting in his seat to look. "But there have been reported incidents where people have sustained a head injury and were suddenly able to speak another language. Then again, last time I saw him he was watching a Bollywood film. The man is certainly an enigma."

Tadashi managed three uninterrupted spoonfuls before Tsukki turned back. He paused, just in case, but Tsukki had a faraway expression on his face and was staring aimlessly at the far wall, so he was probably safe. Even so, best to keep him distracted.

"Have you see any more of those Johzenji guys around?" he asked, lowering his voice; he hadn't yet got used to the fact there were real, live pirates aboard, and he couldn't shake the feeling that at some point they'd turn on their hosts and attempt to take over the _Karasuno_ or something. The night before, while struggling to fall asleep, he'd daydreamed an entire scenario which started with pirates sneaking aboard disguised as crew and ended with Tadashi being enslaved and put to work digging for precious gems — by hand, with an actual pickaxe — in a far-off asteroid mine.

"Not since Tanaka brought that one to the mess yesterday," Tsukki replied, shaking his head. He studied Tadashi a moment and added, rather pointedly, "And I suspect they're more intimidated of us than we are of them. We do outnumber them 150 to 1, Tadashi."

"I suppose," Tadashi said, though it had been so weird to see an actual pirate sitting at a table in this very room, eating with Tanaka and Yamamoto like nothing was out of the ordinary. "But they'll have figured out who we are by now, right? Aren't we in danger?"

Tsukki shrugged. "If I were in command, I'd be long gone from here by now. But apparently Ukai is willing to take them at their word. And it would be particularly ruthless of Johzenji to reveal our location when two of their own are still aboard."

They fell silent, Tadashi finally able to enjoy his soup in peace. But Tsukki had gone back to staring at a bulkhead.

"That's your Kuroo look," he said when Tsukki's expression remained unchanged for a couple of minutes.

Tsukki immediately frowned. "Tsk. Stop reading my mind, Tadashi."

"Sorry, Tsukki," he said, hiding his smile with a sip of coffee. "What did he do this time?"

Tadashi wasn't sure why Commander Kuroo had taken a particular interest in Tsukki but it was certainly proving to be fun to watch. Tsukki usually sized people up quickly, but Kuroo kept him guessing; it was a pleasant change to see him a little flustered for once.

"Nothing," Tsukki replied, his frown deepening. "How was your training?"

Tadashi decided to let him get away with his evasion for now. He could always pester him again later. "Not great," he admitted. "Kinoshita was helpful, but it's one thing to be told 'don't panic!' and another thing to, y'know, not panic."

Tsukki raised a single eyebrow in silent condemnation: a guillotine raised in preparation for an execution, the victim being Tadashi's ego.

"Hey, not everyone can be ice cool under pressure like you," Tadashi protested. "Some of us are actually afraid of dying. It's a thing, look it up."

Now it was _both_ eyebrows, an expression that perfectly blended displeasure and disbelief.

"Sorry, Tsukki," he said, sighing.

Tsukki relaxed, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin on meshed fingers. "Tadashi," he said. "The only people not afraid of death are those too arrogant to believe it could ever happen to them — like Kageyama — or those too stupid to even recognise the possibility, like Hinata. Fear as an emotion serves an important evolutionary purpose: it keeps us alert, floods our systems with adrenaline to decrease reaction times, and improves our chances of survival in dangerous situations. But only if you don't let the fear get the better of you."

"That's easy for you to say," Tadashi said, a wave of bitterness flowing through him. "But I don't have your skill. I'm... mediocre, at best. Fear just makes me more aware of my own shortcomings. That's why I'm doing extra training, to try to remedy some of them."

"Most of those shortcomings are in your head," Tsukki said, poking him in the forehead painfully. "When you're not over-thinking things, you're a good pilot."

"Then why was I so fucking useless back at Miyagi?" he snapped. Suddenly ashamed of his outburst, he gulped down some coffee and looked away, trying to ignore the way Tsukki's eyes was boring holes in his blushing face.

Tsukki sighed. "We've been over this."

"I know, I know, panic is understandable, our opponents were unusually skilled, the situation was exceptional, blah blah," Tadashi said, slamming his cup down on the table. "Tsukki, as terrified I am of dying, what scares me more is being useless. Of letting the team down. There's fewer of us now — we all need to do our best, because we have to rely on each other. Like, what if we get into a situation where your life depends on me? If I panic again and you..." He choked on the unfinished sentence, his eyes burning, and had to clear his throat twice before he could speak again. "I don't want to end up like poor Kinoshita. You should have seen him, Tsukki. He's so cut up about losing Narita and the others."

"It's survivor's guilt, I've told you —"

"Knowing what it's called doesn't make it hurt any less!"

Tsukki glared at him. "You shouldn't become so attached, Tadashi."

"Attached? _Attached_?! Is that what you call friendship? I know what happened with your brother —" He cut himself off before he said something he'd regret, not missing the dangerous glint in Tsukki's eyes, and took a couple of deep breaths. "You know, I wish _I_ had great pilots like Kuroo offering to train me," he said instead. "It pisses me off that I'm struggling so hard, desperate enough to beg someone who's injured and grieving to help me, but you're so cool and detached that you're able to _refuse_ help when it's offered to you. What if that extra training could have made all the difference? What if that difference was what got me killed? Would you even care if I died, Tsukki?"

He'd gone too far and he knew it. Tsukki was looming forwards with cold eyes and a terrifyingly flat expression, and despite his anger, Tadashi couldn't resist shrinking back.

"You're being ridiculous, Tadashi," he said with icy finality. "Don't take your insecurities out on me."

Great, now he just felt wretched. "I wish I could just switch off my emotions whenever they became inconvenient," Tadashi said in a small voice. "But I can't."

"Neither can I."

"No," Tadashi said, suddenly exhausted. "You just try not to feel them in the first place by pretending nothing and nobody matters to you."

There was a long, tense pause. Tsukki's chest was heaving with barely contained emotion, which was never a good sign, and Tadashi noticed Fukunaga staring at them from the sofa with a worried expression. Unable to take it anymore, he let his head drop onto the table with a loud _thunk_ and sighed.

"For the record," Tsukki said tightly. "Of course I would care if you got hurt. And I am deeply offended that you would think otherwise."

"And what about everyone else?" Tadashi said quietly, speaking to the table. "Can you name one friend you've made since joining the _Karasuno_?"

Tsukki's silence was telling.

"I'm sorry, Tsukki," he said, standing up and clearing the table. "I'm not like you."

 

* * *

 

Asahi nearly turned on his heel the moment he found the gym occupied.

It was stupid of him to expect otherwise, really; there were only two small gyms aboard and over 300 people who might want to use them. But he'd been cooped up in his cabin for so long and exercising often helped take his mind off things, so he'd risked it anyway. And it's not like it was _crowded_. Only two other people.

But one of them was Hinata.

He could have faced crewmembers he didn't know and who might not recognise him, especially in his gym kit, but facing a member of the mobile suit team was another matter entirely. Unfortunately for him, he hesitated in the hatchway just long enough for Hinata to spot him and wave at him brightly. Now it would be downright rude to turn and leave, so he was stuck.

With a sigh, he nodded back and went over to one of the treadmills.

Like many parts of the gravity block, the gym was set up so that it could also be used in zero-g if the gravity section was not spinning for some reason. Virtually all of the equipment present featured extra clips and harnesses that could hold you in place while you worked out, and none of them required gravity to work. Weightlifting machines were based on adjustable tension in wires and springs instead of hanging weights, and the treadmills had elastic straps that would pull you down and hold you in place while you ran.

He set himself a slower pace than he usually ran — it had been a while, after all — and he warmed up, slowly building up to full speed. There were small viewscreens in front of each treadmill and cycle, which allowed you to watch TV or simulate running or cycling through natural scenes and race tracks, so he switched his on and selected his favourite, a riverside run in summer. It would match to his speed to help immersion, and although the screen was only 30 centimetres or so across, it gave him something to focus on. Something other than the painful thoughts spinning around inside his skull like somebody had trapped an out-of-control buzzsaw in there.

Within five minutes he'd reached the speed he'd set and decided to turn it up a notch. The familiar burn in his legs was there, but prior to Miyagi he'd often worked out with someone else, usually Daichi or Noya, and the absence was more jarring and distracting than he'd expected. He'd thought maybe he could outrun the guilt, the grief, but it was keeping pace with him easily.

Faster, then. He'd run faster.

"Hey Azumane!"

Hinata's cheerful voice took him by surprise and he nearly stumbled on the treadmill, having to grab the support bars to steady himself.

"Uh, hi, Hinata," he replied.

Hinata had climbed onto one of the cycles next to the treadmills, though he hadn't started pedalling yet. He must have been in the gym a while already, because he was red-faced and sweaty; as he tapped in a few commands to the bike, he wiped his face on the sleeve of his t-shirt. "Is it okay if I join you?"

Asahi could hardly say no, and as long as Hinata was busy cycling at his usual furious pace, he probably wouldn't have the breath leftover to speak. "Um, sure."

For a while, they worked out together in companionable quiet. Having somebody next to him fixed the odd disconnect Asahi had initially felt, and as he ran he fell into a comfortably blank state of mind — one step after the other, one breath after another, with the countryside rolling past on the screen and someone keeping pace beside him. All the thoughts and feelings that had plagued him dropped away.

He didn't realise he'd started crying until Hinata gasped. He'd thought the dampness on his face was just sweat.

"Azumane! Are you okay?" Hinata asked, nearly losing a foot in his haste to jump off his bike. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he said without thinking, which was probably the most stupid thing he'd ever said in his entire life. "Uh, I mean, nothing new." He wiped his face with one hand, blinking away the tears, and gave Hinata a quick glance; the poor kid looked on the verge of tears himself.

When he said nothing else and kept running, Hinata slowly backed off, no longer hovering with his arms out as though he expected Asahi to collapse. In his peripheral vision, Asahi saw him climb back on to the bike, but when he resumed pedalling, it was almost lazy, more of a dawdle compared to his earlier speed.

"I like to come here when I'm pissed off with Kageyama," he said quietly, barely audible over the regular thump of Asahi's steps and the electric whine of the treadmill. "Or pissed off with myself. Helps me burn off steam."

Asahi could quite believe it. Hinata was a bit like Noya: they both belonged to that strange breed of person whose bodies were too small to contain the energy within. For Noya at least, if he didn't find ways to channel that energy, he'd end up twitchy and frustrated and usually wound up doing something either mischievous or reckless. Like trying to race Tanaka from one side of the ship to the other, or doing dangerous acrobatics down the shaft to the gravity block.

Hinata took his lack of reply as permission to continue. "It's not as good as having someone to vent to, though. Like, Kenma lets me complain about Kageyama as much as I want. He doesn't have to say anything — just nod or hum in agreement sometimes — but it's enough, you know? Then we'll play video games or get something to eat and I'll forget why I was angry in the first place."

Asahi increased the speed by another notch. His breathing was becoming ragged now, since he was pushing himself harder than normal, but he welcomed the burn in his lungs and the ache in his legs. It gave him something else to focus on.

"If you want to vent sometime, or just want a running buddy, I can nod or hum as good as anyone else," Hinata declared. "Though I can't promise I won't moan about Kageyama sometimes."

Despite himself, Asahi smiled at that. "What's he done this time?"

Hinata glanced up at him, frowning. "What _hasn't_ he done? Ugh! He's so annoying." He picked up his own pace, pedalling faster and faster until he was hunched over the handlebars as though he was in a race. "Now he's bugging me about my new mobile suit, saying it's a stupid idea, that it's out of date and that it doesn't provide the protection of a modern one, blah blah blah."

"New mobile suit?" Asahi asked, confused. Apparently he'd missed a lot in his self-imposed isolation.

"Yeah! While I was out on patrol — Fukunaga let me borrow his Avenger, he's so cool, though maybe a bit weird too — I found an old Gundam! It was when we ran into Johzenji and Nohebi. Anyway, I dragged it back to the ship to see if the hangar techs could do anything with it. I asked Chief Shimada — Takinoue's a bit more scary, don't you think? — and he was really excited to see it. Turns out he's a fan too! But it needs a lot of work, especially to make it compatible with all our sensors and communications and stuff, and everyone's busy with getting the other mobile suits up and running, so I still haven't been able to test it out for real yet. Shimada managed to set up a basic simulation for it so I asked Kageyama to try it out with me but he said no, saying it was an unnecessary risk and that I should stick to an Avenger. He's so boring."

Asahi blinked, trying to absorb all of that. He pressed the controls, reducing his speed from a near sprint to a more gentle jog, and repeated the gist of Hinata's infodump in his head until he could process it. "You found a Gundam?" he said, starting with that. "Like from the One Year War?"

"Nah, not that old. Though that would be super cool!" Hinata said, still pedalling like his life depended on it. Asahi wondered how could he speak so easily while exercising so hard — did he have an extra pair of lungs somewhere? "Shimada thinks it's a prototype from the Gryps Conflict, though he says that with all the secrecy back then, it's hard to be sure of any details."

"Oh. Okay," Asahi said, unsure what else to say. "What's Nohebi and Johzenji?"

"You haven't heard?" Hinata asked, shooting him a look of surprise. "They're pirates! Tanaka, Kageyama and me found them fighting each other, so we helped out Johzenji because their paint jobs were better. We're trying to make friends with them both now though. Two of the Johzenji guys are still here — one needed surgery — and they seem friendly enough, if a bit freaked out. And I've been trying to convince a Nohebi pilot — did I mention we captured one? — into arranging a meeting with his boss but he's really cagey. I mean, I guess I understand that. Pirates and navy don't usually have reason to trust each other. But Takeda says it's all a unique situation and that calls for a more flexible attitude."

Asahi stopped his treadmill, utterly bewildered. "Wait. We're allying with pirates?"

Hinata slowed down too, giving him a cheeky smile. "That's what you get for missing briefings, Azumane!"

"I don't understand any of this," he said plaintively.

"Okay, so why don't we head to the mess? I'm super hungry now and I missed breakfast because I was busy helping Shimada tinker with the Gundam. I can fill you in on everything!" Hinata suggested, obviously excited by the prospect.

Asahi shook his head. "I'd rather not. I don't want to run into... uh, anyone else."

Hinata's face fell. "We all miss you, you know that, right? Everyone would be happy to see you."

"Not Noya."

Hinata somehow lifted his legs high enough to rest his feet on the handlebars, resting his arms on his knees as the pedals slowed to a stop. "I think he misses you most of all," he said quietly. "It's like some of his fire has gone out."

Asahi sighed, his eyes burning again with unshed tears. "It's my fault. I let him down."

"So pick him back up again," Hinata said, grinning. Like it was that simple.

"Doesn't it bother _you_?" Asahi asked. "What I did? I'm meant to be the ace."

Hinata shrugged, picking at the mostly healed scabs on his left arm. "I don't think one mistake is enough to write someone off forever. Everyone should get a second chance. But it's up to them whether they take it or not, isn't it?" He turned an uncomfortably intense gaze on Asahi; it was like being stared at by the sun and Asahi had to look away. "You know what really pisses me off about Kageyama?"

"Didn't you say he disapproves of your Gundam?"

"Yeah, that's annoying, but I can ignore that. What makes me angry is that he got his second chance, and he was doing really well, but now for some reason he's going backwards. Like he's suddenly become afraid. I don't get it, I don't understand why he's being so cautious now; I didn't think Kageyama was afraid of anything. It's weird and I don't like it at all. He should be pushing ahead, trying to be the best, like before."

Asahi nodded, though he wasn't really following Hinata's train of thought. "Maybe he _is_ scared. He probably would have died if you hadn't saved him."

"So why's he stopped trusting me then?" Hinata asked, clenching his fists in frustration. "If I saved his life, shouldn't he trust me more? Instead it's like he thinks I'm an idiot who can't be trusted to tie his own shoelaces."

An inappropriate smile found its way to Asahi's face when he noticed that Hinata's left shoelace was in fact coming untied properly, but he quickly forced it away. "Have you asked him?"

"He just says I'm too reckless."

Which wasn't exactly wrong, in Asahi's view, but then he was cautious by nature; Kageyama, like Hinata, was not. "Maybe he's scared for _you,_ " he suggested. "Maybe, since you saved his life, he feels like he owes it to you to protect yours?"

"Pfft," Hinata said, scrunching up his face in disgust, but then he narrowed his eyes, considering it. "Do you really think so?"

"I don't know," Asahi said. "But if I were him, I think I'd feel like I owed you somehow."

Hinata pondered this, scratching his head. "If that's why he's acting weird, I'm gonna be even more mad. That's so stupid."

"Why's it stupid?" Asahi asked, taken aback. "Isn't it a nice thing to do?"

Hinata shot him an incredulous look. "We're a team, aren't we? If everyone owed some silly life debt every time we helped each other, nobody would want to let anyone else fight at all. He ought to show his gratitude by helping me, not holding me back." He slid off the bike and grabbed his stuff. "In fact, I'm going to see if I can find him right now. Thanks Asahi! You're a good listener, you know? Also if you want to work out together again, just let me know. Bye!"

And then he was gone, like a ginger whirlwind that appears, turns everything upside down, then vanishes again. Asahi still had no idea whether any of that was supposed to relate to him or not, or whether Hinata had simply got distracted.

But he did miss the others. He'd been so lonely, cooped up inside his cabin by himself, but he couldn't bring himself to face anyone else. At least now he knew one person didn't hold it against him.

With a sigh, he activated the treadmill again to complete his run. He wanted to try to hit 10 km, but this time he left it at a more reasonable speed. And as the metres went by, he thought of all the messages from Shimizu he'd left unanswered, the look on Noya's face after their argument, Ennoshita's discomfort when he came to check up on him. They were all struggling too, but instead of doing what he could to help, he'd run away. Would they ever forgive him for being so selfish?

Hinata had talked about second chances, but by now he had to have been on his third or fourth at least. Or maybe he'd run out of chances altogether.

And yet, despite his fears, despite his self-loathing, after finishing his run and taking a shower Asahi ended up outside Noya's cabin. Before he could think better of it (as he knew he surely would if he let himself), he pressed the button.

"Asahi?" Noya said in surprise, eyes widening as the hatch slid open.

Seeing him, Asahi knew exactly what Hinata meant about Noya's fire going out. Noya was short to begin with, but he looked even smaller now — probably in part because he hadn't bothered styling his hair. It made him look much younger and much more vulnerable. The way he clutched at the hatchway for support, to keep his weight off his injured leg, contributed too. But all that was merely cosmetic: the most telling difference was the absence of Noya's usual hyperactive energy  — the way he'd leap in the air when he got excited, the way he was always in motion in some way, even if it was just his eyes or his hands.

"I'm sorry," he said, bowing his head. "I'm so sorry, Noya."

When there was no response for several seconds, he risked a look up. Noya was staring at him with a complicated expression; something tired and sad and hard, all at once.

"Does that mean you're coming back?"

Asahi straightened, taken aback. He hadn't thought of anything beyond apologising. "I... um... I don't know."

The thought of having to climb back into the cockpit and go out into another battle — without Daichi or Suga at his side — terrified him more than he could express. It was hard enough coming to terms with the fact that he'd never see them again, let alone imagine flying without them. And even if he did, he'd surely just freeze up again.

Noya folded his arms and lifted his chin. "Then I'm not accepting any apology from you," he declared. "If you really are sorry, then you'd come back to us. To fly with us again."

This was a mistake. He _knew_ it had been a mistake. He shouldn't have let Hinata talk him into anything.

But...

When he looked past the hostile tone and actually listened to what Noya had said, something caught in his throat. "You mean you'd actually want to fly with me, after everything that happened?"

"Of course!" Noya said, suddenly animated again, like someone had flipped a switch and hit him with a thousand volts of electricity. He started waving his arms about, looking this way and that, tapping his foot. "Look, I get that it's hard, and I know how it feels to be afraid, but— "

Asahi couldn't help giving an involuntary snort of disbelief at that.

Noya froze. "You think I'm just saying that? You think I'm lying?" he demanded, taking a step forward and seeming to grow, swelling with indignation. And despite being a good 25cm shorter, Noya somehow managed to seem awfully intimidating — enough to make Asahi back up until he felt solid bulkhead behind him. And Noya matched him step for step.

"I don't think you're lying," Asahi said quickly.

"Yes you do." Glancing both ways down the corridor, Noya pressed his lips together in determination and then grabbed hold of Asahi's tunic, tugging him into the cabin and closing the hatch behind them. "Sit," he said, pointing at the chair, after quickly sweeping it clear of stray clothing.

Asahi obeyed, too nervous to do anything else. He'd never seen Noya so intense.

Rather than sit, Noya leant against the opposite wall with his arms crossed. "My parents died when I was little," he said without preamble. "My Gramps raised me on his own. On Shangri-La, one of the oldest and shittiest colonies there is. The whole place is constantly falling apart; half of it is basically just a giant junkyard now."

Some of that Asahi knew from tales Noya had told in the past; he'd never been particularly complimentary about his home colony. And he'd mentioned his infamous Gramps several times. But Asahi didn't know Noya was an orphan. "I'm sorry about your parents," he murmured. "What happened?"

Noya waved a hand dismissively. "They worked on a transport ship. Just an ordinary passenger transport. Zeons blew it up, back in the One Year War. But that's not important."

Asahi's face fell as his heart constricted in sympathy. Noya must have been... what, six, seven years old? "Of course it's important," he said, sadly. "It must have been hard on you."

"I meant it's not important how they died," Noya said impatiently. "Although I'll never forgive Zeon for it." He shifted his weight, favouring his good leg, and grimaced. "But with no parents and no money, in a shithole like Shangri-La? Especially being, y'know, on the smaller side? _That_ was the tough part. I used to skip school to go scavenging in the junk, see if I could find anything worth selling, or failing that, worth keeping. To save Gramps from having to work so hard at his age to support us both. But I wasn't the only one, yeah? Lots of other kids did the same. Adults too. It was finders keepers, except if someone stronger than you found what you had, they kept it. And they had gangs. And clubs, or knives, or even guns."

With a heavy, sick feeling in his gut, Asahi thought he knew where this was heading.

"Gramps always said that the best way to deal with a gang of bullies was to get a gang of your own and fight back. That if you showed them you were alone and afraid, they'd only pick on you again. You had to show you weren't an easy mark," Noya went on, starting to get more animated again now as he got into his tale; he ran one hand up and down his arm and started looking around the cabin, his gaze settling for no more than a couple of seconds before moving on. "But nobody wanted to be friends with a little runt, and after been beaten up a few times, it was hard to find the courage to face them again, y'know? I couldn't understand the point. I was just going to get hurt either way. At least if I tried to avoid them, it would happen less often. I was better at sneaking around than fighting anyway.

"But one time I found part of an old scanner — one of the pre-Minovsky ones, back when they still relied on radar all the time. They're full of rare metals, worth a small fortune. Would have kept me and Gramps going for months, so he wouldn't have to take extra shifts at the factory anymore."

Clenching his fists, Noya hunched in slightly. He was breathing hard and his expression was tight as he remembered. "Three boys found me with it. Teenagers. One had a knife. Said they wouldn't hurt me if I gave them the scanner."

Asahi was holding his breath, all tensed up with anticipation. "Did you?"

Noya stared at him, eyes like molten iron. "No."

Shivering, Asahi had to look away. "What happened?"

"First I tried running," he said with a shrug. "But you can't run easily over a pile of junk, especially while carrying a chunk of metal, and they were faster than me anyway. They cornered me, angry I'd tried to escape." He grinned, a savage, humourless expression that showed his tightly clenched teeth. "I thought I was gonna die, Asahi. And then I thought, if I'm going to die anyway, I've got nothing to lose. So why not fight? Maybe I can at least take one with me."

Tears were forming in Asahi's eyes and he had to wipe them away with his sleeve. He hadn't known any of this. Had anyone? Did Suga or Daichi know? Suga had always said there was more to Noya than met the eye, but surely he hadn't meant this? It would have broken Suga's heart if he'd known.

"I found a broken pipe," Noya continued, "about this long." He held up his hands about 50 centimetres apart. "Sharp at one end where it had been shorn off. And it turns out Gramps was right: if you show them that you're more determined than they are, that you're willing to go further than them, you'll win." He shrugged again. "It took a few more fights, but once word got around, the other kids stopped harassing me so much. In fact word got around enough that some of the weaker ones teamed up with me, and soon I had a gang of my own. Then we made sure nobody picked on _any_ of us."

Asahi didn't know what to say. What was anyone _supposed_ to say after a story like that? 'I'm sorry you had such an awful childhood' didn't even begin to cover it.

Noya seemed to understand anyway. He gave Asahi a wry grin and sat down heavily on the end of the bed, stretching out his leg with a sigh of relief. "So that's my advice, Asahi," he said cheerfully. "You gotta move forward, not run away. Face your fears and beat them to a pulp with a broken pipe. You won't even have to do it alone — I'll help you. I promise. And if you fail the first time, then you just try again and again until you don't."

Sniffing to clear his nose, Asahi blinked away more tears and tried to imagine a tiny, terrified Noya brandishing a makeshift club while surrounded by a gang of scavengers.

Asahi had always been a coward at heart. That was why he'd joined the military in the first place — having decided to try to overcome his own nature in a fit of misguided idealism. To face his fears, like Noya had said. Because he did have his pride, too; not much of it, a fragile, flickering flame that had to be carefully protected from the wind, but it burned inside him nonetheless.

But that was before he'd learnt just what true terror really was: the dazzling glare of a particle beam grazing your cockpit; the panic of being outnumbered and outgunned; knowing that all that stood between you and death was your own meagre skills and your teammates. And then he'd gone and lost those teammates.

Yet seeing Noya perched on the end of his bed, watching with uncharacteristic patience, Asahi reminded himself that he hadn't lost _all_ his teammates. And if they really were willing to have him back — to forgive him — then didn't he owe it to them to at least try?

The mere thought of it nearly made him vomit on the spot, sending tremors through his limbs until his hands shook where they rested on his knees, but Noya stood and clapped his shoulder. "Fight it!" he urged. "Move forward, not back."

In a moment of resolution that he was bound to regret later, Asahi rose to his feet. "Alright. I'll try."

"You'll come back?" Noya said, wanting to make sure, but a fierce grin of joy was already sneaking across his face.

Asahi nodded. "I'll come back."

A moment later, Noya had grappled him in a tight bear hug and buried his face into Asahi's chest. "About time, you big dummy!" he said, voice muffled. "Everyone's been so worried about you."

"Urk, you're... too tight..." Asahi gasped, trying to pry Noya loose enough to breathe.

Noya relented, taking a few steps back. Suddenly embarrassed, he clasped the back of his skull with one hand and gave an awkward little laugh. "I should apologise too," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have intruded like I did. You didn't owe me answers, and I shouldn't have badgered you when you were in so much pain. I said awful things to you."

"I deserved them."

"No you didn't," Noya said, shaking his head rapidly.

They both fell silent, reaching an impasse, but it didn't seem to matter. There was still an awkwardness in the atmosphere, a chill between them that had not yet fully thawed, but already some of Noya's fire had returned. It seemed to drive away the vicious thoughts that had plagued Asahi since the battle — since _before_ the battle, for that matter. But it was always different once he was sealed in the cockpit again, alone. Then those doubts would return tenfold.

"I still don't know if I can go out there again," Asahi said cautiously. "I don't know if I can be the ace you want me to be."

Noya looked up, his eyes glistening. "I don't care, Asahi. Even if you're only able to cheer us on from the sidelines, that'd be A-OK with me. Anything as long as you stop hiding away, where we can't help you."

"Okay," Asahi said. He bowed his head again, then turned it into a full bow. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd hate me. I thought everyone would hate me. I let you all down."

Noya rapped him on the back of the head with his knuckles. "You're an idiot, Asahi," he said. "Nobody hates you. I was only angry because I didn't understand. But Chikara tried to explain — after he shouted my head off for bothering you — and I think I get it now, at least a little. You were under so much pressure, and still dealing with stuff from the last war, and when everything went so wrong so fast... I know I'm probably partly to blame for putting so much pressure on you, and I can't imagine how horrible it must have been for you to lose Daichi and Suga. But you're not on your own. You still have everyone else. You still have me."

"I think I realise that now," Asahi mumbled. "But back then — it was like the whole world stopped making sense, stopped being real. I couldn't handle it. I'd already lost Daichi and Suga, and I was so afraid that after what happened, I'd lose everyone else too."

Noya enveloped him in another hug, more gently this time. "We're a team. We'll always be stronger together than apart. And we're friends too, right? So that means we help each other, no matter what."

Asahi hugged him back; Noya was warm and trembling in his arms, and for a moment, the image of a scared little boy ran through his mind. While he was wallowing in his own misery, it was easy to forget the rest of the team were shaken and scared too. Asahi wasn't the only one in need of reassurance.

"I'm sorry for abandoning you all. I... I don't know how much use I'll be, but I promise I won't leave again," he said firmly. "I swear."

Noya pulled back and turned around, wiping his face where Asahi couldn't see and then trying to style his hair with his fingers. Only then did he turn back, eyes red but a broad grin on his face. "In that case, you've got a lot of catching up to do."

 


	21. Vigilant Hostility

"I don't understand," Kugiri said, rubbing his forehead. "Why would anyone want to set you up? I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but you're nobodies. Just another ship in the great Earth Federation Space Force."

Shouyou popped a chocolate in his mouth and shrugged. "Dunno."

They were sat on either end of Kugiri's bed, facing each other and playing poker. This time Shouyou had also brought along some chocolates, having being given permission to raid the ship's dwindling stores for anything he thought might help sway the captured Nohebi pilot, and the box sat between them. He was in luck: Kugiri evidently had a sweet tooth.

"You must have some idea, surely?" Kugiri asked, adding a sizeable stack of chips to the pot — a big raise — before reaching for another chocolate. "Did you piss somebody off?"

"Probably," Shouyou replied, considering his cards with a sigh. Another crappy hand. He folded, reluctantly shoved the pile of chips towards Kugiri, and pouted when he realised he only had a handful left. "Kenma — you remember I told you about him? He's my genius friend — thinks that there's a sort of conspiracy going on, with protests and bombings and killings and all sorts of stuff to try to turn earthnoids against spacenoids, spacenoids against each other, and the military against everyone else. So maybe we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time — somebody wanted to frame some Rebels for attacking a colony and we got the short straw."

Kugiri considered that as he collected the cards and shuffled them. "Is there any proof?" he asked, pausing to grab another chocolate. Shouyou took another one too, not wanting Kugiri to eat them all, then added his blind bet to the new pot.

"Not yet," Shouyou admitted. "We're going to see if we can find some. But now everyone hates us, so we have to be careful, you know? That's why we want to talk to your boss, Daishou, to ask him not to turn us in." He popped the chocolate in his mouth and gave Kugiri a hopeful look. Maybe today he'd agree at last.

Kugiri rolled his eyes and began dealing out the cards once more. "You ask me that every single time, Hinata."

"Well I don't want to get blown up by an angry armada, do I?" he replied. "And if we get attacked, you'll be blown up too, remember."

"I'm not even sure he'd agree," Kugiri said quietly, studying his new cards carefully. "I'm a nobody too, just a rookie."

Shouyou froze, trying to hide his excitement — and not just because he'd finally been dealt some good cards. That was the most Kugiri had ever let slip about himself or Nohebi. "A rookie? How can you be a rookie pirate? Have you only just graduated from Pirate Academy?" he asked, grinning.

Kugiri was a hard man to get a read on, as he wasn't very expressive; his poker face was pretty much permanent. Even Kenma was easier to read, when he wasn't hiding his face anyway. But Shouyou had learnt a few of Kugiri's more common expressions: bored-but-willing-to-talk face, bored-and-wants-to-be-alone face, bored-and-not-amused face... Kugiri was wearing the latter expression right then.

But to Shouyou's surprise, he explained. "I only recently joined their group," Kugiri confessed. "So they might not care if I get captured or killed."

"But don't pirates have a code?" Shouyou said, adding a small bet to the pot — he didn't want to spook Kugiri. "Like a brotherhood thing, all for one, no man left behind and all that? I bet they've been planning a rescue operation this whole time."

Kugiri's bored-and-you're-an-idiot face told him what he thought of that. Instead he just rolled his eyes and folded.

Shouyou blinked at him in irritation. "How the hell—"

"You're like an open book," Kugiri said immediately, with just a hint of satisfaction. He scooped up the chips to add to his pot, leaving just his blind bet.

Shouyou collected up the cards and shuffled them angrily. Maybe he'd have more luck with the conversation than the cards. "How did you join Nohebi, anyway?" he asked as he dealt.

Kugiri picked up his cards and looked at them much like he'd stare at a blank bulkhead. "I'm not going to tell you anything that will put them at risk."

"So that means you can still tell me things that _won't_ put them at risk, right?"

Kugiri sighed and played with his chips for a moment, clicking them together over and over. Then he abruptly stopped and added a precisely calibrated amount to the pot — if Shouyou wanted to match it, it would cost him all the chips he had left.

"They recruited me as an agent," he said finally.

Shouyou scrunched up his face in confusion. "An agent? Like a spy?"

Kugiri nodded. "Yeah. That's Nohebi's speciality, really — information. We're not indiscriminate pirates: we choose our targets carefully. Or we did, until the recent mess with the civil war made life so much harder."

"Because there's much less traffic around?"

"Yes, that and the communications lockdown. All transport is much more restricted thanks to martial law: everything has to be approved in advance now. Which usually means only freighters carrying essential supplies are allowed, and anything really valuable — like military supplies — gets an escort." Kugiri took another chocolate and chewed, adopting his bored-and-thinking-about-stuff face. Shouyou waited; he was finally making progress, and he didn't want to say the wrong thing. His patience paid off when Kugiri gave him a knowing look. "You want to hear more?"

"Duh," Shouyou said, smiling.

"Then call. Or fold. Again."

Shouyou studied his cards, narrowing his eyes in thought: 8 and 9 of diamonds. Maybe he'd get lucky with a straight or a flush? With a shrug, he pushed all his remaining chips into the pot and grinned at Kugiri. "Okay, spill."

Kugiri broke out his only non-bored expression, a slight smirk that Shouyou rarely got to see, and turned over his cards: a pair of jacks. "Alright. Like I said, Nohebi specialise in information — we have agents all over the Earth sphere, and it all gets funnelled back to Daishou. Sometimes he sells it to interested parties, sometimes he uses it to plan a raid. I was one of those agents — I worked in the port authority at New Tokyo, handling cargo manifests and transport schedules and such." He shrugged self-deprecatingly. "The job was boring as hell, so the extra money and excitement helped make up for it."

Shouyou swallowed the chocolate he was nibbling — there were only a few left now — and frowned as he revealed his own cards. "So how did you end up here in the Shoal Zone?" he asked as he dealt out the three flop cards. Oh — two diamonds, and one was a 10! Maybe his luck was changing; he only needed one more diamond for a flush, and a straight was still possible too.

"The authorities know about Nohebi and have been trying to track them down for ages," Kugiri explained. "Daishou always stays one step ahead of them, so sometimes they go after easier targets instead — agents like me. Except Daishou warned me that I was suspected, so he arranged for me to escape and join them in person." He shrugged self-deprecatingly. "He promised he'd train me to become a pilot and I didn't have much to leave behind, so it was a no-brainer."

"Why do all pirates seem like decent people when you get to know them better?" Shouyou muttered, scratching his scalp. "You're supposed to be bad guys."

Kugiri regarded him with amusement, his bored-but-you're-sort-of-mildly-entertaining expression. "Don't get me wrong, we're all criminals. We steal and blackmail and kill if necessary."

Shouyou scrunched up his face in annoyance as he dealt the turn card — ten of clubs, no real help to anyone. "But Daishou was kind to you, right? He helped you. Maybe he'd be willing to help us too."

"Daishou pays his debts. He's weird like that," Kugiri said. "He's ruthless and conniving, and the best liar I've ever met, but he does have his own warped sense of honour. If he thinks he owes you, he won't stab you in the back until after he's repaid you."

"But if we promised to send you back," Shouyou suggested, "wouldn't he want to repay the favour in that case?"

Kugiri shrugged. "I doubt it. He'd expect you to be lying. Honestly, so do I." He held up a hand before Shouyou could retort and added, "Not you personally — I'm not sure you could tell a lie to save your own life — but that doesn't mean your superiors aren't lying to _you_."

"They wouldn't!"

"Then they're morons." With a glint in his eye, Kugiri gestured at the cards. "Speaking of which, are you deliberately dragging this out? Let's see the river."

Shouyou obeyed, dealing out the last card: jack of diamonds. A brief spark of triumph surged through him — he'd hit his flush! — but then he groaned with frustration when he realised Kugiri had won after all with a full house. "Dammit! I thought I had you that time." He snatched the last chocolate before Kugiri could take it and chewed it sulkily. "And just because you lie and steal and _cheat_ doesn't mean everyone does, Kugiri," he said with his mouth full.

Now it was the bored-and-I-think-you're-an-idiot expression: one of Kugiri's more subtle ones, but you could tell by the way the left side of his mouth quirked up a little and the way his brows drew together just enough to crease in the middle.

Shouyou swallowed the chocolate and sighed. "Please Kugiri," he said. "If Daishou is as smart as you say, then what's the harm in sending him a message? If he thinks it's a trap, he'll ignore it, right?"

"Or come to kill you all," Kugiri said, taking his winnings. He stacked them up and surveyed his wall of chips with a faint air of satisfaction.

"But if he thinks it's genuine, he might agree. Or even try to rescue you." Shouyou shrugged. "That's a decent gamble, right? I'd take that bet."

"Hinata," Kugiri said, rolling his eyes, "take my advice: never, ever go to a casino. Or play cards for real money. Or make a bet with literally anyone."

Shouyou glared at him. "You know what?" he snapped. "Let's make a bet right now! I bet you that if you contacted Daishou, he'd be happy to know you're alive AND he'd agree to help us if it meant getting you back."

Kugiri held his gaze for several seconds, his expression completely neutral. "What are the stakes?"

"Uh, apart from whether or not we live or die?" Shouyou asked, thrown by the question.

"Yup."

Shouyou cast his gaze around the sparse cabin, at a loss. "Um... I'm not exactly in a position to offer you much, and unless you've hidden a stash of money under the bed, I don't think you've got much to offer me either." He brightened and said, "I could probably get you more chocolates? I mean, if I lose it means we're probably going to die anyway, so who's going to care?"

Kugiri's eyes twinkled. "And if you win? What do you want?"

He tapped his chin, thinking. "You teach me how to win at poker. And! You agree to play with me and my friends."

Kugiri shook his head. "I can't agree to those terms."

"Why not?" Shouyou whined. He was so sure he was close to getting Kugiri to agree!

"Firstly, because you got greedy and asked for two things. Secondly, because teaching you to win at poker would literally be impossible. You suck."

Shouyou kicked him in the shin, outraged, but Kugiri merely laughed, retreating out of range and rubbing his leg. "That's prisoner abuse!" he cried, grabbing the empty chocolate box and lobbing it at Shouyou's head. "I knew you'd show your true colours eventually."

"It's — I'm not — gah!" Shouyou snapped, hopping off the bed. " _You_ suck, Kugiri." He snatched up the empty box to take with him — apart from the cards and chips, he wasn't supposed to leave anything behind — and stormed towards the hatch.

"How about this," Kugiri said evenly, just as Shouyou was about to knock on the hatch to be released. "I give you some lessons and we can play some games to evaluate your progress. If you want to invite your treacherous navy buddies to witness you lose, that's up to you."

Shouyou spun around to stare at him, narrowing his eyes. "I won't lose!" He paused, eyes widening again, and added, "So does that mean you'll contact Daishou?"

Kugiri nodded. "If it'll get you to shut up about it, I'll send him one message. If he doesn't reply, or if he replies just to mock you and doesn't agree to help, you lose. In which case, you owe me all the chocolates you can get your hands on."

"And if he replies and agrees to help, or at least agrees not to harm us, you'll teach me how to get better at poker?" Shouyou asked, wanting to make certain he understood.

Kugiri nodded again. "That's the deal."

"Okay. You're on," Shouyou said, beaming. He knocked on the hatch, which slid open almost immediately — but then he knew they were being watched — and hopped out into the corridor, where he did a little victory dance. The marine sentry raised her eyebrows and stifled a laugh as she closed the hatch behind him.

Commander Kuroo straightened from where he'd been slouching against the bulkhead nearby, putting away his datapad, and came over to clap him on the shoulder. "Nice work, Short Stuff," he said, smirking. "Finally seduced him, huh?"

Someone usually kept an eye on things whenever Shouyou visited Kugiri, mainly to catch anything important Kugiri might say that Shouyou missed. Sometimes it was Kuroo, sometimes Ennoshita, and occasionally it was Commander Takeda. Shouyou found Kuroo the most annoying as he often teased him about stuff afterwards, like making jabs about snake-charming, or commenting on stuff Shouyou had revealed to get Kugiri to trust him.

Now, however, he was too pleased to let it bother him. "I know!" he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "And all it took was some chocolates. And maybe offering to humiliate myself playing cards." He glanced up at Kuroo. "Do you think he was right about Daishou?"

Kuroo grinned. "Only one way to find out. Though I didn't realise he'd built such a big network for himself. Sneaky little bastard."

"You knew him, right?" Shouyou asked. "Is he really as bad as people say? Because Kugiri made him sound okay. For a criminal, anyway."

"He was hardly going to diss him, was he?" Kuroo pointed out. He gestured down the corridor. "Come on. Let's report to the captain — I'm sure he'll be pleased."

And as they walked, Kuroo explained. "We were in the same academy class together and got on about as well as matter and antimatter." Seeing Shouyou's blank look, he added, "Which is to say, explosively badly."

"Ah."

"Daishou was always very good at manipulating people, getting them to do what he wanted them to do without them realising it. He'd suck up to the instructors, charm classmates in strategic positions, anything else he could do to give himself an edge."

They stopped to let someone ascend the stairs from the deck below, then went down themselves.

"He cheated, then?" Shouyou asked, frowning.

"Funnily enough, I don't think he did, strictly speaking," Kuroo admitted with a scowl; he clearly wasn't happy about the fact. "He was a bright cadet, the sort that would have done well in any case, but he's the ambitious type — wants to claw his way to the top by any means necessary. If that meant bending the rules as far as possible to give himself an edge, then so be it."

"So how come he's a pirate now and not an admiral?"

Kuroo gave a sheepish laugh. "Yeah, it's kind of my fault, actually."

Shouyou's eyebrows shot up. "What?!"

Glancing up and down the corridor, Kuroo caught his elbow and brought them both to a stop. "Look," he said quietly, "it's not exactly something I'm proud of. So keep it to yourself, okay?"

"Uh, okay," Shouyou said nodding. There was a churning feeling in his stomach as curiosity and apprehension battled it out inside him.

"I caused his girlfriend to break up with him."

Shouyou had been expecting something worse, like framing Daishou for a crime or sabotaging his mobile suit or something, but it was still a very unkind thing to do.

Kuroo read his expression correctly because he backed up a step and raised his hands. "I said I wasn't proud of it. And in my defence, Daishou started it by trying to sabotage me wherever he could — bad mouthing me to instructors, hiding bits of week-old fish in my pilot suit, stealing my magboots..." He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "So I retaliated. We went back and forth; it started with humiliating but harmless pranks and escalated to more serious stuff, until one day I came up with a plan to make it look like Daishou was cheating on Mika, his girlfriend."

Shouyou folded his arms and frowned. "Does Kenma know this?"

"Kenma knows virtually everything about me," Kuroo said, rolling his eyes. "But he's not as judgemental as you are, so don't glare at me like that. I was young and stupid and I regret it now, okay?"

"Tch, alright," Shouyou said, though he was still disappointed. He looked up to Kuroo and breaking up a relationship was an awful thing to do. "What then? How did he end up a pirate?"

"I don't know that part," Kuroo said, staring at his boots. "But after his girlfriend broke up with him — she was really mad, there was slapping involved — he came gunning for me. I mean that literally — there was a gun involved. A bar got evacuated, there was some property damage, and a minor hostage situation... it was all very messy." He grinned nervously. "Anyway, suffice to say, he got kicked out of the academy. And then evidently became a sneaky, information-dealing criminal mastermind."

Shouyou cleared his throat, his eyes wide as he massaged the back of his neck. "We probably shouldn't let Daishou know you're on board..."

"No kidding, Hinata." Kuroo gestured towards the captain's office. "C'mon."

Ukai didn't look up as they entered; he was smoking a cigarette and reading a datapad with his feet up on his desk. "Good news or bad news?" he asked gruffly.

"Good news!" Kuroo said brightly. "The prisoner's agreed to send a message, thanks to Hinata's silver tongue and terrible luck with cards."

Shouyou straightened proudly as Ukai's eyes flicked his way. "About time," Ukai muttered, taking his feet off the desk and stubbing out the cigarette. "Alright, let's do this now." He pressed a button on his desk. "Bring the prisoner to the communications centre, please."

"Yes sir!" came the response.

Kuroo and Shouyou exchanged a glance. "It might be better if I'm not there," Kuroo said. "Daishou and I don't have a good track record. If he knows I'm here, he might try to blow up the ship just to spite me."

Ukai laughed, grabbing his uniform jacket from the back of his chair and pulling it on. "Ex-boyfriend, is he?"

"Not exactly," Kuroo said, his expression twisting into one of distaste. "We were at the academy together."

"Whatever. Make yourself scarce, then," Ukai said, before pointing at Shouyou. "Hinata, you come with me."

The communications centre was in the zero-g section of the ship, close to the top where it could tie into the cluster of comms antennae and dishes that crested the _Karasuno_ 's highest point. It was a compact room with only a couple of operators on duty, but at the far end of the compartment, opposite the entry hatch, was an enclosed section containing a secure communications terminal.

"This has a direct line to the communications array, without going through the ship's network," Ukai explained, ushering Shouyou inside. "Even if the ship's computer is compromised, this terminal should still operate securely."

"Cool," Shouyou said, floating over to inspect it. He was disappointed to find it looked no different to a normal comms station.

A pair of marines arrived a couple of minutes later, with a handcuffed Kugiri being carefully towed along between them, since he couldn't use his hands to steer himself in the zero-g. He raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly when he saw Captain Ukai, but he offered a slight nod to Shouyou and wore his best bored-but-cooperative expression.

"So," Ukai said once they'd brought him inside the secure section. "Kugiri, right?"

The marines helped anchor him to the deck so he wouldn't float away out of control and Kugiri nodded. . "Yes."

"I'm Captain Ukai. You ready to send this message?" Ukai gestured at the comms terminal.

"What do you want me to say?" Kugiri asked, moving over to it. Ukai pointed to the nearest marine and made an unlocking gesture, so the marine tossed the key fob to the handcuffs over. While Kugiri inspected the console, Ukai removed his cuffs.

"You know what we want," Ukai told him. "Say whatever you like as long as it'll get him to talk to us."

Kugiri shrugged, setting up a new transmission and entering a convoluted comm address. When the live transmission light started blinking, he cleared his throat and said, "This is Kugiri. I'm being held prisoner aboard a navy ship. They want to talk to you to discuss the terms of my release." He looked at Ukai questioningly. "Anything else?"

Ukai had moved back, out of the camera's field of view, but at Kugiri's question he sighed and pulled himself closer, so his head would be in shot. "Hi," he said. "Just so you know, we've not been torturing your guy, and we're not forcing him to do this. But we have something you want and you have something we want, so let's talk, okay?" Then he waved at Kugiri, who blinked in confusion.

"Er... bye then," he said, ending the recording, and with another couple of commands he sent the message off.

"Real smooth," Ukai told him. "You should be a news anchor. Or a talk show host."

Kugiri's cheeks went pink, but he nevertheless turned an unimpressed look on Ukai. "You weren't exactly subtle either."

"Do I look like a subtle guy, kid?"

"Honestly you look like a yakuza gangster."

Ukai's expression darkened. "Is that so?"

"Dyed hair tied back, smelling of tobacco smoke — all that's missing is a tattoo on your face," Kugiri said. He turned to Shouyou. "Hinata, be honest: of the two of us, which of us looks most like a pirate?"

Shouyou let out a tiny squeak of alarm. Both men were glaring at him, awaiting an answer, and Shouyou had never wished so badly for the ability to teleport. He'd even settle for the ability to self-destruct. "Um..." He smiled weakly and scratched the back of his head. "Do either of you own an eye patch or have a pet parrot?"

He was saved from certain death by a beep from the comms terminal. Everyone turned to investigate, though Ukai pushed Kugiri aside to open the message. "What is this?" he asked after a moment. "A cipher?"

After giving Ukai a dirty look, Kugiri stepped forward to read it himself. "No. It's a communications relay protocol." After a pause, he added, "I think Daishou wants to talk in real time."

"I thought you said he wouldn't want to risk that, in case we trace the signal?" Shouyou said.

Kugiri shrugged. "I'm surprised too. But Nohebi do have a few tricks."

Ukai waved at the terminal. "Fine. Do your stuff, kid. Set up the call. But if this is a trap, you'll regret it."

Kugiri ignored him in favour of fiddling with the controls. Shouyou tried to get close enough to watch, peeking between Kugiri and Ukai from behind. He was no expert in communications systems, but it looked like Kugiri was reconfiguring one of the dishes to link to use a specific frequency. "What is that?" he asked.

"We have some relays set up throughout the Shoal Zone," Kugiri said. "I'm trying to patch into one of them using the information Daishou sent." He sniffed in satisfaction. "There we go."

A few moments later, a face appeared on screen — Daishou, presumably. He had neat brown hair, swept sideways, and a fake smile that rivalled even Kuroo's famed Cheshire Cat grin for smugness. "Kugiri," he said smoothly. "Good to see you."

"And you, Daishou," Kugiri replied, much more respectfully than he'd spoken to Ukai.

Daishou's gaze moved to Ukai, eyes narrowing slightly, and then fixed on Shouyou. Belatedly realising he was in view of the camera, Shouyou quickly hid behind Ukai.

"So you're the captain of the infamous _Karasuno_ ," Daishou said. "Captain Ukai. I have to say, I'm jealous — I've been a wanted criminal for several years now, but in just a few days you've gained a bounty more than a thousand times bigger than mine."

Ukai grunted. "Yeah, yeah, enough chit chat. If you know who we are, you know why we don't want to be found. We're willing to return your pilot to you if you agree not to turn us in."

There was no response to that, so Shouyou peeked back between the other two to look. Daishou was still on screen, a calculating look in his eyes.

"Kugiri," he said. "Have they been treating you well?"

Kugiri nodded. "Well enough. I'm stuck in a tiny cabin, but they treated my wounds, even after I tried to escape, and they feed me chocolate and send me someone to play cards with." He glanced over his shoulder at Shouyou, reaching out to pull him closer. "If we were playing for real money, I'd have made a fortune by now."

"Um. Hi!" Shouyou said nervously, waving.

Daishou's smile twitched. "Alright, Captain," he said. "If you let Kugiri go right now, I'll keep your secret."

"No deal," Ukai replied. "He stays with us until we're ready to leave. Then we'll drop him off at an agreed location for you to collect."

"I'm hurt by your lack of faith, Captain," Daishou said, and he really did look offended. "Do you think so little of me?"

"Yes," the captain said. "Because I know your reputation."

Daishou's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And I bet I know who told you. So Kuroo survived then; what a pity."

Ukai cleared his throat. "You're dealing with me, not him. So what's it to be?"

"We don't know exactly where you are, Captain, and the Shoal Zone is a large area full of hiding places," Daishou said, his smile fading. He stared at Ukai seriously. "As a show of good faith, couldn't you release Kugiri now? Even if we betrayed you, the most we could say is that you're somewhere in the Shoal Zone, which they've probably already guessed themselves."

"I told you, no." Ukai folded his arms. "You don't get him back until we leave, and that's final."

Daishou stared at him a few seconds longer, then moved on to Shouyou, and finally to Kugiri. "I'm sorry, Kugiri," he said, sighing. "I wish there was more I could do."

"What do you mean?" Kugiri asked, sounding nervous for the first time.

"I thought you were dead, or at best rotting away in a Johzenji cell. I never expected the _Karasuno_ to take you, let alone for them to offer to release you," Daishou said unhappily.

"You've already reported our position," Ukai growled.

Daishou sighed. "Of course I have, Captain. Given the reward, it would have been criminal not to. And for the record, I was lying earlier — we followed one of your patrols back so I do know exactly where you are. You should have kept quiet, without sending out mobile suits, and maybe then you would have bought yourselves more time. As it is, you can expect guests very soon — a few hours, most likely."

"Shit. That's just fucking great," Ukai said, punching the metal frame of the console. "Damn!"

"I don't suppose you would be kind enough to release Kugiri anyway?"

Ukai glared at him. "In between running for our lives and fighting to survive, you mean?"

"So that's a no?"

Angrily, Ukai ended the call. He glared at Kugiri. "I hope you're happy, kid. If you'd agreed days ago, this might never have happened. Now you suffer the same fate as the rest of us." He gestured to the marines. "Take him back."

Kugiri had gone pale, and as the marines cuffed him again and pulled him towards the hatch, he looked helplessly at Shouyou. "I'm sorry."

Shouyou stared back, stunned.

"Hinata, go get suited up. If we run into trouble, we're going to need every pilot we've got," Ukai ordered, heading out into the comms centre. He tapped one of the operators on the shoulder. "Open a ship-wide channel." Once the operator had obeyed, he continued, his words now echoing from speakers all over the ship. "This is the captain. Our position is no longer secure and Loyalist warships could be here any time. Make ready for immediate departure and head to your battle stations. Ukai out."

While he'd been speaking, an idea occurred to Shouyou. "Sir?" he said, getting Ukai's attention. "What about Johzenji? Could we ask them to help?"

Ukai blinked, nonplussed. "The other pirates? Why would they help us?"

"Maybe they won't," Shouyou admitted. "But two of their guys are still aboard, and we did help them. They owe us. And even if all they do is scout for us, send word when the enemy's approaching..."

"Alright," Ukai nodded. "Can't hurt to ask them. But then report to the hangar."

"Yes sir!"

 

* * *

 

There it was: the most wanted ship in the entire solar system.

The _Karasuno_.

Like a hermit crab emerging from its shell, the battered assault carrier was carefully manoeuvring out of the ruined colony it had been sheltering in. Around it, bright, fast-moving dots marked the locations of its mobile suits, on guard and on watch. Between the silence of space and the glittering sunlight reflecting off the shards of metal everywhere, it was almost otherworldly; like they really were at the bottom of a crystal-clear ocean, watching a sea monster climb out of its lair.

The thought sent Yuuji's pulse racing; one way or another, a fight was coming.

" _You sure we can't just turn them in for the bounty?_ " Bobata muttered over the comm; he was keeping pace beside Yuuji in his Zaku III.

Yuuji grinned. "We could take early retirement. In our early twenties! Live a life of lux—"

Misaki poked him painfully in the side, just under his ribs. With a squawk of pain, he strained against the harness in an attempt to squirm out of reach. "Ow!"

"Nohebi has already turned them in, remember," she said sharply. "Besides, Tsuchiyu and Futamata are still aboard, and — LOOK OUT!"

Distracted by her surprise attack, Yuuji had taken his eyes off the viewscreen. Now he looked back to see a jagged piece of torn armour hurtling right at them; with barely ten metres to spare, he jerked the mobile suit to the side and dodged it. "That was your fault, Misaki! Don't distract the pilot!"

Inside her helmet, Misaki's face had gone pale. "Sorry."

Four of the Feddie mobile suits — more of those annoyingly awesome RHQ ones, not that Yuuji was jealous — came to intercept them. " _You drunk, Teru?_ "

Dammit, Tanaka had seen! "Nah, just showing you how to dodge properly," Yuuji shot back. "Gotta have good reflexes to live here in the Shoal Zone."

Judging by his snort of laughter, Tanaka wasn't buying it. " _Sure. Well when you're done playing chicken with chunks of metal, you're cleared to land. Port hangar. Hinata and Takeda are waiting with your guys._ "

Yuuji exchanged a glance of surprise with Misaki, who frowned uncertainly.

When they'd received the message — relayed by Futamata — their first response had been astonishment. A navy ship? Begging _them_ for help? But then astonishment had given way to suspicion. This wasn't just any ship — this was the _Karasuno_. The Butchers of Miyagi. Sure, they'd helped out with those Nohebi punks, and they'd probably saved Tsuchiyu's life, and then later they'd even sent some techs and equipment to help patch up Johzenji's mobile suits, but that didn't mean Yuuji was ready to believe everything they said. They were _Feds_ , after all.

So when Futamata explained about Nohebi reporting them and the _Karasuno's_ request for help, everyone had figured it must be some kind of trick. Or at best, some kind of hasty blackmail situation — threatening Futamata and Tsuchiyu unless Johzenji helped out. Yuuji wasn't an idiot and neither was Misaki; this whole time, they'd both known it was in the _Karasuno_ 's best interests to drag out Tsuchiyu's recovery, because as long as the two Johzenji pilots were aboard, reporting the rebel ship to the authorities meant condemning their own people too.

Was the _Karasuno_ seriously just going to hand them back after all? Or was it just some kind of trick?

"Alright, go ahead," Misaki told him quietly. "Just... keep your eyes open."

Johzenji had come ready for anything. Whether that meant storming a mobile suit carrier to rescue Futamata and Tsuchiyu or working _with_ the carrier to fight off an entire fleet of Junta bastards, Yuuji was raring to go. His legs jiggled with anticipation as he brought his mobile suit — a Geara Doga that they'd only been able to get working with the _Karasuno_ 's help — over towards the ship. This close, he could make out the individual turrets, as well as all the battle damage; in several places, plates of salvaged metal had been welded over hull breaches, giving it a sort of patchwork appearance.

Bobata was supposed to be following, but he'd dropped back a bit as they approached.

" _What if it_ is _a trap?_ " he asked warily.

Yuuji laughed. "Then we just fight our way out of it, Bobata! C'mon."

Had he been alone, Yuuji would have just flown straight into the hangar, the Geara Doga's enormous bazooka primed and ready (just in case). But with Misaki in the cockpit with him, he figured he ought to be a _little_ more cautious, so instead he touched down on the launch deck some way outside the hangar and walked in. It gave him more time to look around and sniff out any danger.

"Never thought I'd be inside a Feddie carrier," he muttered as he brought them to a stop in the centre, looking around curiously. The hangar was mostly empty, but there were a couple of other mobile suits left, including one weird-looking thing that definitely wasn't a standard EFSF design: it looked like it was cobbled together out of salvage and spare parts. A small group of people in pressure suits were clustered near the airlock, watching, and he spotted two in yellow; one waved at him.

"That you, Futamata?" he called, switching to Johzenji's standard frequency.

" _'Bout time you got here, Teru,"_ Futamata replied. That was good; he hadn't used any of the code words that would warn them of a trap. " _But what the hell is Bobata doing?"_

Teru turned to look and saw Bobata's Zaku walking _backwards_ towards the hangar, his rifle raised and pointed in the general direction of a pair of RHQs floating nearby. "Oi! Bobata! Hurry it up, wouldya?"

"Let's go see what they've got to say then," Misaki said, opening the cockpit hatch. Yuuji noticed she double-checked her pistol first.

"S'okay," he told her as he unfastened his harness. He patted the two powerful guns he kept strapped to his thighs. "I'll protect ya!"

She gave him a distinctly unimpressed look, one eyebrow raised, and then pushed off towards the deck. After locking up his cockpit, Yuuji followed. Futamata reached out to grab them and help them anchor to the deck, grinning and exchanging a high-five with Yuuji.

"All good?" Yuuji asked, glancing at the pair of marines standing nearby in their combat armour.

Futamata nodded, giving him an OK sign — no danger — and then turned to pat Tsuchiyu on the shoulder. "They even mended Tsuchiyu's pilot suit."

Tsuchiyu reddened, running a hand over the patch over his stomach; the colour wasn't an exact match, but it was close. Teru knew there'd be a matching one on his back, as well. "How ya feeling?" he asked him. "Didn't expect to see you up and about so soon."

"I'm tougher than I look!" Tsuchiyu protested, folding his arms. "Just point me at a mobile suit and I'll fight."

Misaki leaned closer, staring through his faceplate. "Now isn't the time for bravado, Tsuchiyu," she said sternly. "Tell us the truth."

As the smallest of the guys, Tsuchiyu had always felt the need to act tough and show he could keep up with everyone else. Yuuji had often encouraged it in the past — he liked his pilots to be fired up! — but he had to admit it backfired sometimes, like now.

Tsuchiyu lowered his eyes. "The doctors weren't happy about me leaving."

"They were pretty scary about it, actually," Futamata added. "We had to promise that Tsuchiyu would take it easy and keep taking his medication." He scratched the back of his neck, under his helmet, and chuckled awkwardly. "And I kind of had to help carry him this far."

"Futamata!" Tsuchiyu whined. "You promised you wouldn't tell them that!"

Yuuji laughed and patted them both on the shoulder. "Never mind that now. What we really want to know is what you made of the _Karasuno_. Are they bloodthirsty killers? D'you think we ought to blow 'em up and get revenge for Miyagi?"

" _And justice for spacenoids!_ " Bobata chipped in; he'd obviously been listening in, though he'd obeyed Misaki's instructions to stay in his Zaku and keep watch.

Tsuchiyu and Futamata looked at each other and shrugged simultaneously. "For Feds, they don't seem that bad," Futamata admitted. "I mean... don't take this wrong, but I kinda like 'em. We got some shady looks at times, but they've got some fun guys too."

"I was stuck in medbay most of the time, but the doctors were nice," Tsuchiyu said. "For Feds, I mean."

"Hmm," Misaki said, turning to face the huddle of _Karasuno_ crew nearer the hatch.

Commander Takeda took that as his cue, stepping forward and smiling at them all. "Good to see you again, Misaki, Terushima," he said. "I'm glad you came. Would you care to join us somewhere more comfortable?"

Misaki folded her arms. "I'm happy enough here, thank you," she said. Yuuji recognised her tone; she was entering negotiation mode. And Misaki knew how to play hardball. Whatever the _Karasuno_ was after, it was going to cost them.

Takeda didn't seem fazed by her response. "I understand," he said. "I'll get straight to it then. As we said in our message, we expect Loyalist warships to arrive at any time. Obviously we wanted to make sure to return your pilots to you —" he paused to gesture at Futamata and Tsuchiyu, "— but we were also hoping you might be willing to help us escape."

"Why should we risk our necks fighting in someone else's war?" Misaki said, glancing around the hangar. "Especially on the side of the Butchers of Miyagi. We already did you a big favour by not reporting you — and let me tell you, that bounty would have really helped us out."

Hinata spoke up for the first time, bouncing forwards and holding up his hands. "Hey, wait," he protested, "that wasn't us. Well, um, we were there, but we were trying to _protect_ Miyagi."

Surprisingly, Futamata backed him up. "They showed me and Tsuchiyu the recordings of the battle," he said quietly. "And you should have seen the state of some of their mobile suits. They were wrecked."

"Since when did you become an expert in video forensics, Futamata?" Misaki said, frowning at him. "It could be faked. And it's in their interest to get you to believe them."

Takeda nodded slowly. "Of course, that is a possibility," he admitted. "If we had more time, we could fill you in on the full story, show you the footage and let you judge for yourselves. But I'm afraid our time is limited." He held up a finger. "However, I would like to ask you something: what if we're telling the truth? What if someone else really did attack Miyagi, and slaughtered millions of innocent people? Wouldn't you like to see them brought to justice? Because right now, that's our goal."

Yuuji looked around the hangar thoughtfully. He'd never been on a Feddie ship before, but he'd seen enough combat to know for sure that the _Karasuno_ had taken a pounding at Miyagi. But that was to be expected, right? Since a bunch of Loyalist ships had shown up to fight them. And sure, the _Karasuno_ had done a lot to help Johzenji, but they were clearly desperate — they'd probably do whatever it took to get people to help them.

But as Misaki argued hypotheticals with Takeda, Yuuji frowned. The _Karasuno_ had taken a pounding, but it wasn't defenceless. It had more mobile suits than Johzenji, and better ones too — not that Yuuji liked to admit it. And they had plenty of marines. They didn't need to _ask_ for aid; they had the power to just take it. Yuuji was a pirate; he knew all about taking stuff without permission. If _he_ were in their situation, that's what he would probably do. He wouldn't be a bastard about it — wouldn't kill anyone unless they insisted on fighting — but with as much firepower as the _Karasuno_ still had, the threat alone should be enough to get people to obey.

Then his eyes found that chirpy little pilot dude, Hinata. He beckoned him closer with one finger, and when Hinata obediently trotted over, he pressed their helmets together so they could speak privately.

"What do you really want from us, kid?" Yuuji asked.

Hinata withdrew slightly, staring up at him in puzzlement, before putting their helmets together again. "We're not asking you to help fight an entire fleet," he replied. "The captain says that running is our best bet — if it comes down to a fight, we've already lost anyway. But if the Loyalists are close, they might spot us as we leave, so I just thought you might know some good escape routes, or have some spy probes set up somewhere that could give us more warning. Stuff like that."

Yuuji prodded him in the chest. "Wait, this was all _your_ idea?"

Hinata shrugged. "Kinda. I know you're pirates, but you don't seem like bad people. I figured it was worth asking and the Captain agreed. Besides, you'd want your friends back either way, right?" He turned to look at Tsuchiyu and Futamata, both standing nearby and watching with undisguised curiosity.

"Did you fight at Miyagi too?" Yuuji asked, yanking him closer again so their helmets touched.

His expression transformed instantly: guilt and grief and anger all rolled into one. "Yes," he said, glaring at Yuuji as the tense muscles in his cheek and jaw twitched. "Yes. I did."

"And did you really butcher everyone?"

For a second, Yuuji really thought Hinata was going to fight him — his body tensed up, his fists clenched, and he reared back like he was preparing a head-butt. But then something broke in his face; Hinata's expression crumpled and he closed his eyes. "Of course not," he said quietly. "But..."

Yuuji narrowed his eyes. "But...?"

"But..." Hinata trailed off, hesitating. Then he took a deep breath, pressed his lips together, and came to some kind of decision. "There was one stray shot, at the end," he said, his cheeks reddening. "I... I was fighting too close to the colony, and... and..."

Alright, that decided it. Misaki could harp on about proof and fabricated evidence and whatever else, but Yuuji was a guy who followed his instincts. And those instincts told him that the earnest, red-headed shrimp in front of him was genuine. If he was this cut up about one accidental shot, there was no way he could have murdered millions of people.

"Okay, I get it," Yuuji interrupted, before breaking contact and patting the kid on the shoulder. He gazed at Futamata and Tsuchiyu, thinking, then cocked his head to the side in silent query; both gave him a nod in return.

Then he walked over to Misaki; it sounded like she was in the middle of trying to extort Commander Takeda.

"We'll help," Yuuji declared, using his radio this time so everyone could hear.

Misaki rounded on him immediately. "What?! Teru, you can't—"

He grinned at her. "I believe them," he said. "Futamata and Tsuchiyu believe them. And to be honest, I don't give a shit anyway. They're up against some Junta assholes and those Nohebi fuckers were the ones who turned them in. I don't need an excuse to fight those guys. And an enemy of our enemy is our friend, right?"

"It's not that simple, Teru!" Misaki protested. "You can't just rush in to things all the time — not with all of our lives on the line. You know how dangerous this might be..." Slowly, she trailed off, the frown on her face softening into a sort of fond, resigned smile. "Nothing I say is going to make any difference, is it?"

"Nope!" he said brightly, giving her his cockiest grin in return.

She rolled her eyes, her smile widening. "You know we're probably going to regret this, right?"

"Nah! It'll be fine," he said. "Besides, how often do we get to bail out the navy, huh? They'll owe us _big time_." He waggled his eyebrows at Takeda, who looked like he'd just received an unexpectedly large bill in a posh restaurant.

"I'm not sure how we can repay you," Takeda said delicately, "though you will certainly have our gratitude. But since time is short, perhaps we ought to discuss our plan of action...?"

"We don't really do plans," Yuuji told him cheerfully.

Misaki elbowed him out of the way. "About that..." she said, her tone catching Yuuji's interest immediately. "That's not strictly true — we do have an extraction plan of our own. Maybe we can make use of it."

Takeda glanced out through the hangar doors thoughtfully, watching the debris float by. "We would welcome any help you can offer. But would your plan be effective with a ship the size of the _Karasuno_? We'd expected to have more time to make a quiet exit; if we have to rush, it'll be much harder to go unnoticed, especially if we have to shoot our way through all the debris."

"Can't you just ram your way out?" Futamata asked. "I mean, this is a proper warship, right? With beefy armour and big engines?"

"As you probably noticed, our armour isn't impervious," Takeda told him. "We took a fair amount of damage getting in here in the first place. We can reduce the risk by going very slowly, but from the sound of it, we don't have that luxury."

A ridiculous idea popped into Yuuji's head. "What if you make your armour thicker?" he said, his voice rising in excitement. "There's plenty of bits of armour floating around out there. Just weld some to the front and there you go — instant battering ram!" Aw man, that would be so cool to watch. He turned to Misaki, a question on his lips, but she shut him down before he could even speak.

" _No_ , Teru, we are not going to do that with our ship." Misaki folded her arms. "Besides, you're missing the bigger problem: if the Loyalists are already on their way here, they'll probably spot a ship this big leaving the Shoal Zone anyway. But if we can lure them in close with a bit of misdirection..."

Yuuji blinked and then grinned as he caught on. "Oh, _that_ extraction plan. You mean Operation 'Going Out With A Bang', right?"

She closed her eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh; had she not been wearing a helmet, she would undoubtedly be pinching the bridge of her nose. "Don't call it that. But yes."

"So that means we get to use our toys at last?" Yuuji said. He rubbed his hands together in delight and laughed his best evil megalomaniac laugh. "At long last!"

"It's not a laughing matter, Teru," Misaki said wearily. "If we're seriously going to do this, we'll probably want to be leaving too."

That brought Yuuji up short. "Wait, what? You mean leave our base?"

Misaki shrugged. "If the Shoal Zone is about to become a battlefield, this whole area is going to be crawling with Federation mobile suits. You think they'll just ignore any pirates they find along the way? Better to lay low somewhere else for a while until the heat dies down."

He hadn't bargained on that, but she did have a point, as usual. "Yes boss!" he said, giving her a cheeky mock salute. Then he turned to his pilots and grinned. "C'mon guys, let's get our welcoming party ready!"

 

* * *

 

"I don't see why he has to drag us all aboard his ship every time he wants to talk to us," Yahaba complained, strapping himself into one of the shuttle's seats.

"It's because Ushijima doesn't see us as people, he sees us as talking robots who exist only to obey his every whim," Tooru replied, staring out of the porthole by his seat. He'd already fastened his harness and secured his datapad in his pocket; now he began touching up his hair by using the faint reflection in the window.

"No, it's because he's in command," Iwa said. "And at least he's telling us what's going on."

"You hate him almost as much as I do, Iwa," Tooru said, shooting him a betrayed glance. "Don't defend him."

All three ships of their small task force — the _Aobajohsai_ , the _Dateko_ , and the _Shiratorizawa_ leading — had abruptly gathered at a rendezvous point and were now making best speed towards a specific part of the Shoal Zone. It didn't take a genius to figure out why: their quarry had been spotted. But now Ushijima was insisting on briefing them in person for the upcoming mission, which meant flying over to the _Shiratorizawa_ and sitting through one of the man's interminable briefings. Tooru had met more lifelike mannequins than Ushijima; even a text-to-speech converter was more emotive.

Damn him.

It was a waste of time anyway. If Tooru had still been in charge, he would have sent all ships directly to the _Karasuno_ 's last known position rather than meet up first — the risk of the _Karasuno_ escaping was higher than the risk of facing them one-on-one, especially after the pasting they took at Miyagi. And the briefing would be self-explanatory; Ushijima's grasp of strategy began and ended at "attack!", typically with him in the lead and everyone else supporting him. Which was made substantially easier for him due to the fact he had one of ICS's rare RHQ-95/K "Knight" mobile suits — essentially the result of some bright spark asking, "What happens if we fit every possible weapon we can onto a single mobile suit?" It was far from nimble, but it was a veritable tank and its fearsome arsenal of weaponry made it deadly at any range.

Commodore Washijou, the _Shiratorizawa_ 's commander and thus the officer leading their small task force, had not listened to Tooru's (ultimately correct) guesses as to the _Karasuno_ 's destination. He'd insisted on spreading the ships out in a cone, casting a wide net to sweep up the ship or any stragglers in case they'd simply stopped and gone dark instead. It was the textbook manoeuvre but utterly unimaginative and completely useless. Whatever else they were, the crew of the _Karasuno_ were not complete morons. They would not be sitting still in empty space with all their lights off, just hoping nobody stumbled over them.

His datapad vibrated in his pocket and he took it out to check his messages. Unsurprisingly, it was Moniwa.

_[15:49] Moniwa:  About those "irregularities"..._

_[15:50] Moniwa:  Should we say something to Ushijima?_

Tooru rolled his eyes. Sometimes he felt like Moniwa's babysitter. Or his therapist.

            _[15:51] Oikawa:  What "irregularities"? And no._

As funny as it would be to watch Ushijima's eyes spin and smoke vent from his ears when the data failed to compute, it wasn't worth the aggravation. It's not as though Ushijima would alter his plan in any way.

Given that the ships were barely a kilometre apart, the shuttle trip only took a few minutes, and Tooru joined the other two in disembarking. He could have brought Makki and Mattsun instead — the order had only specified Tooru and Iwa — but Yahaba had proven himself to be more dependable than expected in the aftermath of Miyagi, supporting the rookies and keeping the others in line, so bringing him along was Tooru's way of rewarding him. Iwa, of course, would have come whether or not he was ordered to; sometimes Tooru thought of him as a force of nature, something to be weathered rather than controlled. He doubted there was a more stubborn, immovable person in the entire Earth sphere.

The _Dateko_ shuttle had arrived just ahead of them, and as they disembarked, Tooru and the others went to join Moniwa, Kamasaki, and Futakuchi. No Aone this time; either Moniwa thought he could stop the other two from bickering by himself or he was going to give them free rein and let Ushijima deal with it. Tooru hoped it was the latter.

"Long time no see," Moniwa said, his expression guarded.

"Indeed," Tooru replied. "But who are we to question our glorious leader?"

While the others exchanged pleasantries (i.e., bickered), Tooru let his eyes roam the hangar. The mobile suits of Shiratorizawa's mobile suit team stood tall in the oversized hangar, resplendent in white, gold, and purple. And there was suit #1, Ushijima's obnoxious Knight: a Bombardier's railguns and missiles, a Conductor's armour, and a Defender's rockets all bolted onto an enlarged, over-powered Avenger. And the thing that annoyed him most of all was how jealous he felt when he looked at it. He was a coordinator first and foremost and his Monarch was (at least in his opinion) the best combat controller you could find, but nothing short of an old mobile armour — essentially a flying fortress — had the sheer destructive capability of a Knight.

"Welcome to the _Shiratorizawa."_

Tooru turned to find one of Ushijima's lieutenants, Kenjirou Shirabu, standing stiffly nearby. Trust Ushijima to send an underling rather than welcome them himself. "Shirabu, always a pleasure," he said, giving him his least sincere smile.

"Likewise," Shirabu replied. Tooru had to resist the urge to throttle him.

"I'm sure your illustrious commander will be waiting," Tooru said. "Shall we proceed?"

"Of course. Let me show you the way — you might not be accustomed to the layout of a modern vessel like the _Shiratorizawa_."

As Tooru slowly ground his teeth into dust, they all followed Shirabu out of the hangar and into the internal gravity ring. He was somewhat gratified to find that the pilot's briefing room was more or less identical to the one on the _Aobajohsai_ , though perhaps a little wider; he'd half expected it to be a veritable palace, complete with plush upholstered chairs and hanging chandeliers. Ushijima's team was already present, with Shirabu immediately going to join them. The rest were all waiting silently and all looked to the hatch at the same time as the newcomers entered.

Creepy.

"Ah, good, you're here," Ushijima said, breaking off from a low conversation with his freaky, red-haired accomplice, Satori Tendou. "Please, take a seat. We're ready to begin."

Exchanging glances with Iwa — who glared back, probably to discourage him from attempting to murder Ushijima in front of his team — Tooru took the centre seat in the rearmost row and began thinking up as many ways to heckle Ushijima as possible.

"Thank you all for coming," Ushijima said in his familiar monotone. Tendou remained nearby, chin raised as he swept his unnatural gaze across them all. He reminded Tooru of a crazed vulture, scanning a field of corpses for the most foetid, rotten morsels to devour.

"Like we had any choice, you talking crash dummy," Tooru muttered. On his right, Iwa elbowed him in the ribs; on his left, Yahaba stifled a chuckle by scratching his nose.

"We have received an anonymous tip regarding the location of the renegade assault carrier _Karasuno_ ," Ushijima went on; if he had heard Tooru's comment, he chose to ignore it. On the screen behind him, a rather fuzzy image of a ruined colony appeared. Barely visible inside the wreckage was one of the _Karasuno_ 's catapult decks, artificially highlighted in red. "They are hiding inside one of the destroyed colonies in the Loum Shoal Zone at the L1 Lagrange point."

Tooru raised his hand, intending to be awkward. "Can we be sure the information is accurate?" he asked without being prompted.

Ushijima was unfazed, of course. "The informant provided this image," he said, gesturing at the screen, "along with images of mobile suits bearing Karasuno and Nekoma paint schemes. If it is a trick, it is an elaborate one, but as our best lead it requires investigation regardless."

The display shifted to show an overview of the Shoal Zone and the task force's approach to it. It was futile to try to map the constantly shifting field of debris, so the diagram consisted mainly of a grey cloud with a red X in the middle and three green triangles heading straight towards it along a dotted line. Because naturally the _Shiratorizawa_ would want to take the direct route.

"We'll be arriving in about 6 hours," Ushijima explained. "While our ships hang back on the edge of the zone to offer long-range artillery support, all mobile suits will launch and proceed through the debris to the _Karasuno_ 's position. Shiratorizawa will take point and will defeat the enemy mobile suits. Aobajohsai and Dateko teams will provide support and ensure the enemy carrier does not escape."

Typical. Shiratorizawa in the lead, taking all the glory, while everyone else was relegated to mopping up. Though it's not as if they'd done more than minimal training together, so maybe it was just as well. Commodore Washijou apparently didn't see the point — Shiratorizawa was unbeatable, so why waste time training other teams to operate with them? It all made Tooru's blood boil.

Moniwa raised his hand. Unlike Tooru, he waited until Ushijima nodded at him before speaking. "What are the rules of engagement?" he asked. "And what do we do if we encounter survivors from the _Nekoma_?"

Ushijima stared back implacably. "Standing orders are clear. Unless they offer unconditional surrender, all Rebel forces are to be engaged and destroyed."

Tooru wondered what it must be like to be inside Ushijima's head. Was his vision as monochrome as his morality? Had he always been so unquestioning, so obedient? If he received orders to commit suicide, would he even hesitate?

"What about estimates of their remaining numbers?" Shirabu asked, after raising his hand.

"Unclear," Ushijima replied. He gazed across the room to Tooru. "Lieutenant Commander Oikawa, you were in the best position to assess their losses at Miyagi. Can you summarise your report on their strength?"

Startled at being called on, Tooru took a moment to gather himself — he'd been in the middle of a vivid fantasy in which a robotic Ushijima was being ordered to undertake various demeaning tasks — and cleared his throat. "I would say 15 at most, if you include the surviving Nekoma mobile suits. However, many were severely damaged."

During the briefing, Tendou had slowly slunk his way back along the side of the room, going almost unnoticed. Now he'd reached the last row and meandered along the bulkhead until he was standing right behind Tooru. When he leant down so that his head was level with Tooru's, in between him and Iwa, Tooru had to grab his right hand to physically restrain the impulse to punch him.

"And do you think they'll fight, Oikawa?" he crooned. "Do you think their spirits are broken, shattered to pieces, or will they spit and hiss when we corner them in their lair?"

Tooru tensed the muscles in his neck and shoulders, forcing himself to look straight ahead, even though he could feel Tendou's hot breath on the side of his face. "I have no idea, Tendou," he replied. "Torturing small animals is your area of expertise, not mine."

Tendou straightened. "I'll be very disappointed if they surrender," he said with a toothy grin.

"Any other questions?" Ushijima asked. Nobody replied, so he shut down the display and nodded. "Dismissed."

Tooru and Iwa both made to rise, but a hand on each of their shoulders — Tendou again — stilled them. Tooru shrugged him off immediately, wincing in disgust.

"Stay a while, why don't you?" he murmured, speaking to the Dateko contingent as well.

For a moment, a spike of alarm surged through Tooru — had they somehow got wind of Moniwa's troublemaking? — but he stamped down on it and smoothed his expression out into one of bored insouciance. Tendou could probably smell fear with his lizard nose; it wouldn't do to panic. He swept his gaze over the others, hoping they'd follow his lead, and folded his arms. "How could we refuse such a kind invitation?" he replied sweetly.

After the rest of the Shiratorizawa team had filed out, Ushijima came over to join them, accompanied by two junior pilots that Tooru didn't recognise. He remained on his feet but leant back against the seat in the next row forwards, so he was in front of them while Tendou stood behind. Tooru fought to maintain his composure; he felt like a cornered animal.

"Commodore Washijou wants to make sure the lead team is as strong as possible," Ushijima said. There was a flicker of something — dissatisfaction, perhaps — on his ordinarily expressionless face. "He therefore orders you to temporarily transfer your top pilots over to us immediately. In exchange, we will exchange two of our own pilots." He gestured to the two nervous ensigns hovering nearby.

The others reacted in a variety of ways. A low rumble sounded from deep in Iwa's chest, like a dragon about to breath fire. Yahaba began protesting. Moniwa paled and stared at Kamasaki like the latter had just received a death sentence. Kamasaki and Futakuchi started arguing over who was the top pilot.

Tooru's only external reaction was the way his left eye started to twitch, but internally his mind was racing.

They _did_ suspect something. Nothing they could prove, or there'd be military police — or worse, military intelligence — waiting for them. But with the way the elite _Shiratorizawa_ had been drafted in to lead them, and now this blatant hostage taking, it was clear that someone higher up in the hierarchy did not trust the _Aobajohsai_ or the _Dateko_ to carry out their orders without close supervision. Maybe Moniwa had inadvertently tripped some alarm bells, or perhaps it was merely the infuriating fact that the _Karasuno_ had escaped them twice now. Either way, the underlying meaning of this move was clear, even if Ushijima himself didn't realise it.

Tendou clearly did, however.

"Aww," he whispered, bending down again to hiss into his ear. Tooru could almost feel Tendou's forked tongue brush against his skin. "What will sneaky Oikawa do without big, brave Iwa to protect him, hmm?"

Without looking, Tooru reached up with his hand and firmly shoved Tendou back. He'd have to disinfect his hand later to prevent contamination, or maybe amputate it, but it was worth it for the startled squawk that Tendou let out. "I suppose you've already decided on who will be transferring, without any input from us?" he asked Ushijima sharply.

Ushijima nodded. "I have reviewed the relevant records. Lieutenant Iwaizumi from Aobajohsai and Lieutenant Kamasaki from Dateko will be transferring."

"Hah! Suck on that, Futakuchi," Kamasaki whooped. Something like weary regret crossed Ushijima's face.

Well, he deserved all the misery fate could heap upon him. "You realise we'll be filing the strongest possible protest against this action," Tooru said smoothly, retaining a death grip on his temper no matter how much he wanted to beat Ushijima's statue-like face into a pulp. "It weakens both our teams significantly while disrupting your own."

"My orders are clear," Ushijima said. "We will ensure the pilots on secondment are familiarised with our tactics, and I expect both are experienced enough to adapt." He glanced at Iwa as if for confirmation, but all he got in return is a glare that could melt steel. Ushijima shrugged. "And I'm sure Ensigns Akakura and Sakae will benefit from their time aboard your ships."

Tooru turned to inspect the two rookies in question. Both were incredibly nervous and doubtless unwilling pawns in this little game. "Are they even Avenger pilots?"

"Sakae is qualified in both the Avenger and Defender," Ushijima said, pointing at the shorter of the two — a wide-eyed young man with short, dark hair. "He's assigned to you. Akakura is a capable Avenger pilot and will be transferred to the _Dateko_." The second pilot was more eager, which Tooru interpreted as meaning he was also the more stupid of the two.

It could have been worse. They could be transferring Tendou and Shirabu. At least these two were clueless puppets and thus unlikely to actively attempt to spy on them.

"Take good care of our hapless little babies, won't you?" Tendou said in a sing-song voice. "We want them back safe and sound."

Tooru couldn't resist glancing over his shoulder to glower at him. The fucking lizard had the audacity to grin back, eyes hooded; he knew _exactly_ what was going on, and the unspoken "or else" passed between them silently.

"What about our mobile suits?" Kamasaki asked, oblivious to the tension in the room.

"You will use Shiratorizawa mobile suits. Our technicians will reconfigure them to your specifications," Ushijima said. He straightened. "Tendou will show Lieutenants Iwaizumi and Kamasaki to their quarters and familiarise them with the ship. The rest of you are welcome to stay for a while and seek refreshments before returning to your ships. If you need anything, Sakae or Akakura know how to contact me." He paused, perhaps expecting a polite farewell, but when he didn't get one he simply turned and walked out, unperturbed.

Tendou pranced over to the hatch, leering at them. "Time for the grand tour," he said, making it sound like he was about to take them to a brothel. "C'mon, don't be shy!"

Iwa exchanged a frustrated glance with Tooru, and in those few precious seconds, Tooru did his best to memorise his face: the spiky black hair, as prickly as his personality; those dark green eyes, quick to anger but also full of loyalty; and that mouth. Hmm. Best not to dwell on that. "Tendou," he called, without taking his eyes off Iwa. "The transfer is only for the duration of this mission, I assume?"

Tendou cackled. "Until we take down the _Karasuno_ , yes," he said, which wasn't the answer Tooru had hoped for.

He sighed and gave Iwa a small nod. "Be careful. And keep your eyes open."

"You too," Iwa said, standing up. Kamasaki had already gone to join Tendou, leaving poor Moniwa looking as though he'd been recently bereaved. Futakuchi and Yahaba both had identical expressions of distrust and dislike as they glared at Tendou, who actually seemed energised by their naked hostility. He twisted at the waist, this way and that, and waved his fingers in a perverse little dance.

"Remember," he cooed, "separation makes the heart grow fonder!"

Maybe Tooru would get lucky — if Tendou kept on like that, Iwa was sure to murder him soon. The far from gentle shove towards the hatch that Iwa gave him was evidence enough of that.

When they were gone, Tooru looked around at the others, noting Moniwa's scared, defeated expression and the uncertainty of Yahaba and Futakuchi. Even the two Shiratorizawa newbies looked anxious.

This was undoubtedly a message: behave or else. He wasn't sure exactly what had warranted it, or where it originated, but the threat was clear. Yet the message also told Tooru something else, something unintentional: whoever sent it was _afraid_. Afraid enough to take hostages to ensure compliance.

Sending in the _Shiratorizawa_ to take command was one thing; that could be ordinary bureaucratic manoeuvring, coupled with a degree of dissatisfaction at the _Aobajohsai_ 's performance thus far. But to target Tooru and Moniwa directly like this, in defiance not just of protocol but also common sense...

Moniwa had been right. Some deeper game was being played here, and whoever was behind it was worried that they knew about it — or at least suspected.

In any case, this altered the calculation entirely. Tooru had been content to be a good little boy and focus his fury on the _Karasuno_ like he was supposed to. It rankled, being kept in the dark, but he was no idiot; he'd chosen his side and knew better than to give anyone cause to question his loyalty. But now they'd had the audacity to take Iwa away from him.

They'd turned on him first.

"Um...?" Akakura said. "Sirs? Did you want to get anything to eat or drink, or...?"

Tooru pasted a bright, sunny smile on his face. "Good idea. Let's take advantage of the famous Shiratorizawa hospitality and get some snacks while we're here, shall we?"

Pleased to be able to help, Akakura perked up immediately. "Okay! Just follow me, I'll show you the way."

As the rookies led the way out, Tooru hung back to walk alongside Moniwa. "I've changed my mind," he said quietly.

"About what?" Moniwa asked glumly, glancing up at him.

"Your little side project."

Moniwa's eyes widened. "Wait, you mean...?"

Tooru nodded, giving him a razor-sharp smile. "I've had enough of being a pawn in someone else's game. It's time to become a player myself."

 


	22. The Greatest Decoy

It had been a frantic race against the clock, but their preparations were just about complete. Now all they could do was cross their fingers and hope it all worked out.

But there was one last thing to do first.

"Alright," Tetsurou said over the comm. "You all know the plan. It's dangerous, but if the _Karasuno_ is going to make it out of here, it has to be done. So I need five volunteers to come with me."

He rapped his fingers on his console, waiting; it would be exquisitely embarrassing if nobody spoke up. But he needn't have worried — several gung-ho voices all spoke at once, with varying degrees of bravado.

Laughing, he got them to repeat themselves until he could figure out who spoke, and then he went through his mental list and narrowed it down. Not everyone had volunteered; Tsukishima hadn't, for example, although Tetsurou hadn't really expected him to. But of the thirteen mobile suit pilots they had flying, more than half spoke up.

Not for the first time, he smiled to himself and shook his head wondrously; he was lucky to have such a good bunch of people with him.

Even so, he couldn't take them all; some had to stay to escort the _Karasuno_. He was a bit selfish in making sure Kenma was one of them, but he only needed one Conductor for the decoy operation, and Kageyama was probably the better option anyway. For what was coming, Kageyama's astonishing accuracy would be invaluable.

Tetsurou chose Inuoka and Nishinoya for the same reason — both had excellent control. And between their Defenders and his own Guardian, they ought to have plenty of defensive firepower. Then he added Yamamoto — who had tried to get himself chosen by being louder than anyone else — and, after a moment's hesitation, Hinata. He wasn't sure Hinata's unholy, Frankenstein-like hybrid of Gundam and Avenger was ready for combat yet, but Hinata had good reflexes, and even if he still wasn't getting along with Kageyama, there was the possibility they might be able to pull off the Quickshot in a pinch.

"Good," he said, pleased with his selection. "Make sure you're all topped off with fuel and anything else you need. We'll set off in —" he paused to check his display, "— just under ten minutes."

" _I'm coming too."_

Tetsurou frowned, having to check his comms panel to figure out where the signal had come from. "Uh... Terushima, right? You sure? It's not going to be a picnic."

" _Call me Teru_ ," the pirate replied. " _And yeah, I know. But it's where the action's gonna be, right? I don't want to miss the fireworks!"_

It wasn't a great idea. They'd never flown with Johzenji before, and Teru's Geara Doga wouldn't be part of Kageyama's tactical net; he'd basically be fighting alone and there was a high risk of friendly fire. But they were relying on Johzenji to make this whole rickety plan work and he couldn't afford to piss off their lead pilot.

"If you're sure," he said. "Just... follow my lead, okay? The timing on this is going to be critical."

" _As long as I get to set off the bomb."_

Rolling his eyes, Tetsurou let out a long sigh. "Fine."

Shutting off his mic, he unfastened his helmet so he could wipe the sweat from his face and cool off a bit. He also took the opportunity to release his harness and massage his chest; his wounds were playing up. He'd have to fasten them again shortly, before things got crazy, but he wanted to enjoy the freedom while he could.

His Guardian was already topped up and good to go, so he didn't need to land again, but he did take the opportunity to drink some water and switch off some systems to let the radiators bring the temperature down. They'd all been out for several hours now, jetting back and forth around the Shoal Zone, and although the mechanics had done their best, none of the _Karasuno's_ mobile suits were in top condition. Ideally, after operating this long he'd want every suit to get checked over thoroughly... but there just wasn't the time.

_Too little time._

It all boiled down to time. Fuck Daishou and his Nohebi goons! If it weren't for them, the _Karasuno_ could have hid out in the Shoal Zone until they'd had confirmation from Bokuto about the _Fukurodani_ , and then they could have snuck out quietly without anyone noticing. Instead, they'd had only a few hours to put together a hasty, _insane_ plan with far too many moving parts and far too much that could go wrong. And even if they did escape, they didn't know yet whether any help was coming.

No use complaining. _It is what it is_ , as Nekomata used to say.

And they did have some good luck on their side. Without Johzenji, they would have been up shit creek with no paddle and a ticking time bomb in their canoe. It was thanks to Johzenji's hidden probes that they even knew how long they actually had, having spotted the approaching Loyalist task force early on. And the plan was only possible because of Johzenji's knowledge of the Shoal Zone.

But as he watched a yellow-painted Zaku drift past nearby, Tetsurou shook his head with a wry grin. He'd never imagined he might one day be working with pirates, let alone ones flying old Neo Zeon mobile suits.

Misery acquaints man with strange bedfellows indeed.

He checked the clock on his console and sighed. "Okay gang, it's time to get moving. I hope you've all been to the little pilots' room because it'll be your last chance for a while."

" _Wait, the what room? Did I miss something?"_

_"He's talking about your tiny bladder, Hinata,"_ Tsukishima said, bringing a fond grin to Tetsurou's face.

" _Hey!_ "

After a chorus of laughter from the others, Tetsurou fastened his helmet and gripped the controls. "Form up and follow me."

Moving slowly and carefully, both to avoid the debris and avoid their thruster trails being spotted from long distance, it took them about fifteen minutes to reach the wrecked Argama-class mobile suit carrier that formed the basis of their decoy operation. The ship had once been the _Aquila_ , a proud sister ship of the _Karasuno_ and _Nekoma_ ; but it had fallen victim to an ambush during the First Neo Zeon War and became just another steel corpse in this floating graveyard. Seeing her caused a stab of grief to shoot through Tetsurou's heart; the blackened battle scars and remnants of the red colour scheme reminded him far too much of the _Nekoma_ 's final moments.

But now, after ten years, the dead _Aquila_ would fly once more.

The engineers had worked miracles to get even just two engines up and running in a matter of hours. Fortunately, most of the hits the ship had taken were amidships — where the hangar decks, living quarters, and most of the weapons were. The two forward flight decks and the engine blocks to the stern were largely intact. If anyone got close, it would be obvious that it wasn't the _Karasuno_ , but from a distance, trailing exhaust flare and surrounded by the flicker of particle rifle fire from the mobile suits, it ought to work. Their pursuers would see what they expected to see: a mobile suit carrier fleeing the Shoal Zone.

It all came down to the timing.

Checking that he was using laser commlinks only, he toggled his mic. Radio transmissions probably wouldn't get picked up with all the debris and interference but there was no point risking it now that the Loyalists were close. "Take up your positions around the ship and wait for the signal," he said. "Try to keep it intact, but don't take any unnecessary risks. The poor old _Aquila_ won't notice a few more holes in her hull. The main thing is to put on a show for our guests."

Acknowledgements came in as expected, as did some squabbling between Hinata and Kageyama (also expected), but then Inuoka added a question.

" _Um, sir, why go to all this trouble? Why didn't we just leave six hours ago?"_

_"Because we'd get spotted,"_ Yamamoto replied _._

Tetsurou nodded. "The Loyalists were too close to the Shoal Zone. If we'd blasted our way out in a hurry, they would have seen it and intercepted us. Even if we'd made it out of the debris field, they would have chased us down. So we're luring them in to dazzle them up close while the _Karasuno_ sneaks out the back. And if we're really lucky, we'll convince them that we're dead in the process."

" _Plus we get to show off some of Johzenji's fireworks!"_ Teru added, laughing. " _Just wait._ "

Technically, this was mostly based on Johzenji's own escape plan. Misaki had explained how, as pirates, they'd had to be prepared to make a hasty getaway for years. Ukai had jumped on the basic concept and amended it, adding a decoy, but it wouldn't have worked without raiding Johzenji's toy box.

The thought of which sent a shudder running down Tetsurou's spine. If the navy had found out that a pirate gang had been running around with a stockpile of nukes at its disposal...

Everyone was quiet as they waited. Their sensors were effectively useless; even if there was no Minovsky interference, this deep in the Shoal Zone the debris obscured everything. But they knew where to look and the go signal would be impossible to miss.

Tetsurou took a couple of deep breaths, calming himself, and began stretching his fingers as the plan ran through his mind. By now, the Loyalist mobile suits would have entered the Shoal Zone, approaching the ruined colony where the _Karasuno_ had been hiding. The warships would probably stay outside, unwilling to risk pushing through the debris themselves but close enough that they could probably provide artillery support with their main cannons. Meanwhile, the _Karasuno_ herself would be at a safe distance, her silhouette altered by her new battering ram and other debris carefully positioned to disguise her.

He tried to visualise their attackers in his mind: all those over-confident Loyalist pilots, charging towards the shell of the colony, ready to take their prey by surprise. Would they suspect something was wrong when nobody came out to intercept them? Or would they just keep going? This whole thing would be a lot easier if they all just flew right up to the colony just as the first bomb went off.

A dazzlingly bright flash caused his displays to automatically dim. He had to blink away the afterimage as he gripped the controls.

"That's the signal. Let's move!" he said, sending the remote command to the _Aquila_ that would — hopefully — fire up its engines. He held his breath, watching, waiting, and when one of the engines coughed and went out, he thought they might be in serious trouble... but then it flared back into life, and slowly the _Aquila_ accelerated away.

As it did, he took aim at some of the nearby garbage and opened fire. It didn't even really matter if he hit; all that mattered was putting on a show, drawing any remaining Loyalist mobile suits towards them and away from the real _Karasuno_. The others joined in, lighting up the space around them with flickers of gunfire and flashes of explosions.

_C'mon_ , he thought to himself. _Come over here and see what all the fuss is about, you Junta pricks._

The _Aquila_ was speeding up, getting faster and faster, and now he started aiming in earnest, trying to pick off tumbling chunks of scrap metal before they could smack into the carrier. But with the ship's guns silent and only seven mobile suits protecting it, they couldn't catch everything; in minutes, the _Aquila_ sported several new gashes, and a wrecked mobile suit had exploded against its upper hull — old ammunition, maybe.

It didn't matter as long as they reached their destination on time. But it was like a theatre company getting the scripts for a new show just hours before opening night; there had been no chance to rehearse, no chance to plan for emergencies, and no safety nets in case anything went wrong.

" _Commander Kuroo,"_ Kageyama said, " _the ship is off course."_

How he could sound so calm while tracking dozens of targets and shooting at some himself, Tetsurou couldn't fathom, and a flash of jealousy made his teeth clench before he replied. " _Can we still make it?_ "

The _Aquila_ absolutely had to be in the right place at the right time for this illusion to work. Otherwise it would be like a magician reaching into their hat only for the rabbit to fall out of their trouser leg.

Kageyama took a moment to reply, and when he did, his calm was noticeably shaken. " _I don't think so_."

It was probably the impacts the _Aquila_ was taking. There was no way to steer her — they'd pushed her around to point in the right direction and tried to ensure the thrust was balanced, but after that it was all up to luck; she was basically an unguided rocket right now. He'd hoped that her sheer mass would keep her on track even if she took some hits, but more debris was slipping through their net than expected.

His mind raced, hunting for a solution even as panic started bubbling up from beneath. He continued firing, shooting at the targets he was given, but he couldn't help glancing repeatedly at the displays behind him; the Loyalists could show up at any time.

Unless... maybe they _could_ steer the _Aquila_?

"Inuoka, Nishinoya, _"_ he said, "put your point defences on automatic and come join me. We're going to try to pilot the _Aquila_."

" _What? How?"_

" _YEAH! Always wanted to drive something that big!"_

With the two Defenders following, Tetsurou dropped back a little to let the _Aquila_ catch up, and then positioned himself at the end of one of the catapult decks. Inuoka and Nishinoya did the same opposite, on the other deck. "Alright, Kageyama, send me the data. How far off course are we?"

Kageyama sent the data without bothering to reply; maybe the strain really was getting to him after all. Tetsurou frowned at his screen, wishing Kenma was here; his spatial reasoning was exceptional. "Looks like we're veering too far to starboard," he said. "Grab onto something and thrust to port; don't stop until I say."

Swallowing hard and hoping a stray chunk of debris didn't turn him into a shiny smear on the launch deck, Tetsurou put his Guardian's shoulder against the hull and maxed out his thrusters. The metal frame of his mobile suit groaned and creaked with the strain, and he glanced at the rapidly-rising temperature readouts with alarm, but it was working. Bit by bit, the _Aquila_ was coming back onto the right course. Except he'd have to nudge her a bit past that, to compensate for the earlier drifting off course...

"Stop, stop!" he yelled when he figured they'd moved enough, but then a sudden dimming of the light in front made him look up from the navigation display.

" _Watch out!"_ Teru shouted.

Closing awfully fast was a giant piece of debris; it looked like the entire bow of a Salamis-class cruiser, shorn off the rest of its ship somehow — several thousand tons of twisted, battered steel hurtling towards them. "Get clear!" he yelled, yanking the controls and sending his Guardian leaping away from the _Aquila_. Seconds later, the wrecks collided; his onboard computer simulated the sound of the impact with a horrific metallic _crunch_ , followed by a grinding shriek like nails on a chalkboard that made him squirm.

The piece of Salamis bounced off the upper hull of the _Aquila,_ taking a good portion of the ship — including the entire observation tower — with it. With the outer hull torn open, the innards of the ship were visible. Corridors and compartments were ripped open and exposed to vacuum; had it been the _Karasuno_ , dozens if not hundreds of people would have been killed or spilled out into space. Fortunately, it was a ghost ship: nobody was aboard, and the engines kept burning.

But now it was _really_ off course.

" _I can see thruster trails approaching_ ," Hinata said nervously. And, as if things couldn't get any worse, streaks of long-range fire from the Loyalist warships started flashing past. Most missed entirely, but some hit nearby debris or impacted on the _Aquila_ 's ravaged hull.

The navigation data was still on his screen and Tetsurou could see the projected path diverging quickly from the right one. Every second meant it got further and further off track. "Quickly! Everyone, get under the _Aquila_ and push her up!"

It was the only option. It meant they were vulnerable to more debris, but it would shelter them from the cannon fire and was the best chance they had of getting the ship back on course. All seven of them rushed to help, acting as mobile manoeuvring thrusters. They clustered at the very front of the _Aquila_ , where their own engines would have the most effect by using the ship itself as a kind of lever.

And bit by bit, it was working: 15 degrees... 12 degrees... 10 degrees...

Hinata squawked with alarm and near-panic: " _They're nearly here!_ "

Kageyama, tense and controlled: "Stay focused, dumbass! You're off-kilter!"

_Just a little more..._

2 degrees... 0 degrees. Back on course, assuming his calculations for the hasty course correction were correct.

It would have to do; they were out of time.

"Okay, get clear! Keep shooting but run up ahead — make sure you're out of the blast radius. Teru, you ready on that trigger?"

" _Dude, it's an irresistible big red button right in front of me. I'm amazed I haven't pressed it already."_

"Please don't, or we'll be vaporised," Tetsurou shot back dryly. He pushed his thrusters to max and fired shot after shot until his rifle's capacitor was drained; even then, the shoulder-mounted turrets kept up a steady stream of fire. Their vibrations sounded like somebody trying to break into his cockpit with a pair of chainsaws.

Just up ahead was the area they'd seeded with smoke bombs. The _Aquila_ ought to just scrape inside, though it would be well off-centre.

"Alright, Teru — on my mark... NOW!"

This time, the flash of light was close enough and bright enough that an entire hemisphere of his panoramic display went dark. For a moment, Tetsurou worried that the explosion had actually fried his cameras, but a few seconds later they readjusted, showing nothing but a cloud of grey.

This was the most terrifying part.

Teru's detonator wasn't just hooked up to the nuclear warhead they'd planted in the _Aquila_ 's engineering deck; it was also hooked up to the smoke bombs. Right now, dazzled by the explosion and blinded by the smoke, they had a narrow window in which to shake their pursuers — as long as they didn't fly into any debris first.

And they were all on their own. The smoke would block the laser commlinks too. Tetsurou wouldn't know if they all made it until after they'd broke clear.

He set his jaw, breathed deeply, and focused. His eyes scanned the grey clouds in front of him, watching for movement or anything solid, ready to jerk his Guardian aside at the last moment. Twice he had to do exactly that, sliding around small chunks of debris; one got close enough to clip him on the arm, sending him into a brief spin until he could correct, and the jolt of it threw him violently against his harness. A jagged, searing pain tore through his shoulder; he narrowly avoided throwing up, though he couldn't shake the hot, sickening sensation of knowing he'd escaped being crushed to death by mere centimetres.

Finally, the smoke thinned out until he could see stars — and debris — once more. Anxiously, he checked his displays, searching for the others; one by one, flashing status indicators switched back to solid colour as their mobile suits linked back up again. There was Tora, and Kageyama, and Teru... Hinata in his weird hybrid mobile suit... then Noya...

Where was Inuoka?

They couldn't afford to stop and wait, let alone search. The _Karasuno_ would already be making its move, and the smoke wouldn't confuse the Loyalists for long anyway. But he couldn't leave one of his team behind, especially not one of the youngsters. Inuoka reminded him far too much of an eager puppy; every instinct screamed at Tetsurou to protect him.

"Anyone see Inuoka?" he asked, looking around frantically, knowing that every second that passed put them all at greater and greater risk.

Tetsurou had even met the kid's parents once — friendly, doting folks who had anxiously asked him to look after their only son. The thought of Inuoka being captured or left to drift in the Shoal Zone until he ran out of air caused a visceral reaction in him, a sickening spasm that rushed through his guts like he was on a roller coaster that had just jumped free of its tracks.

" _There!_ " Hinata yelled, streaking forwards to scoop up something that Tetsurou's sensors had initially tagged as debris. Hinata must have had keen eyes to spot Inuoka's Defender; only the top half remained, and it looked like it was unpowered.

"Take care of him, Hinata!" Checking one last time to make sure everyone else was ready, he swung his Guardian around onto the right course and braced himself. "Time's up — we have to go _now_. Remember, after the initial burn, don't use your thrusters unless you absolutely have to!"

The acceleration pushed him back in his seat, and he prayed that the timing and navigational calculations were all correct. By now, if everything had gone to plan, the _Karasuno_ would have battered its way out of the Shoal Zone on the opposite side from the waiting Loyalist warships and cut her engines. If everyone was on course, they'd meet up in about half an hour.

If not...

When the thrusters finished their pre-programmed burn, he shut down as many systems as he could to minimise his signature and then settled in for the worst part of a plan full of bad parts:

Hurtling through a debris field at a stupidly fast velocity with only his reflexes and manoeuvring jets to protect him.

 

* * *

 

Tobio had never been ice skating; it wasn't the sort of thing his family indulged in. The closest he'd come to it was slipping on some ice cubes he'd accidentally spilled onto the floor once. Even so, he'd imagined how it might feel at first — arms waving as he struggled to keep his balance, narrowly missing colliding with other skaters or the barriers around the ice rink, until he finally got the hang of it.

And that was pretty much what flying through a debris field with only low-power RCS reaction control thrusters felt like.

After their initial acceleration, they'd gone as dark as they could. His sensors told him they'd all managed to break contact with the Loyalist mobile suits — for now — but that would only last as long as they didn't give themselves away by shooting or using their main thrusters. Which meant they were zipping along at high speed through a dense cloud of sharp metal, relying purely on their reflexes to keep them alive. They couldn't slow down, couldn't accelerate, couldn't blast the obstacles in their path: all they could do was glide around them. But because their RCS thrusters were much weaker than the main engines, that meant predicting impacts way in advance to give themselves time to manoeuvre.

Sweat beaded across Tobio's face, his heart in his mouth as he struggled to swing his heavy Conductor to the side to avoid a piece of engine cowling almost as big as his mobile suit. A constant chorus of pings and rattles sounded through the cockpit as tiny shrapnel bounced off the Conductor's armour, and he wondered just how many new holes he'd pick up by the time he made it back. The technicians were bound to shout at him for making such a mess so soon after fixing up the mobile suit.

Somewhere up ahead, the _Karasuno_ and its escorts would have been doing almost the same thing: sneaking out of the Shoal Zone with as little noise as possible. But the _Karasuno_ had already positioned itself closer to the edge, and the makeshift armour 'battering rams' they'd hastily welded to the bows would help protect it — and its escorts — from anything except big chunks of wreckage. In such cases, the escorts would go out and shove the debris aside. But for Tobio and the others to catch up, they had to go a lot faster, and since they were closer to the enemy, they couldn't risk any sharp turns unless it was an absolute emergency.

He couldn't spare the attention to track the others, but he could see the colour-coded status lights out of the corner of his eye. Except for Inuoka, whose Defender seemed to be offline, everyone else was still linked, but none were in the green anymore. The light for Hinata's stupid scrapheap suit kept flickering, its connection to Tobio's Conductor flaking out and then re-establishing itself repeatedly, but it had been doing that since the start.

Tobio himself had it worst. His Conductor was the least agile of the mobile suits; without its full thrusters, it handled like a drunken whale. He had to plan well ahead and had to fight the control sticks the whole way, gradually shifting course. It felt like running through a forest at night while holding a heavy 20 metre pole out in front of him, trying to thread his way between the trees.

Letting out a sharp sigh of relief as he dodged a section of severed solar panel, Tobio's eyes went wide as he realised he'd inadvertently put himself on a collision course with a drifting chunk of scrap the size of a house. He hadn't seen it because the solar panel had blocked his view.

Pull back on the stick. Aim perpendicular to the line of motion. Use all the RCS thrusters he could. Spread-eagle, to maximise effect. "Move move move...!"

Not enough!

"Oh _shit_!" With mere metres to go, Tobio twisted the Conductor sideways and pulsed the main thrusters on its legs and back, darting out of the way at the last moment. For a moment, he would have lit up like a lighthouse, but he'd had no choice — it was that or let himself get squashed like a bug on a windscreen.

He brought himself back on track with the RCS thrusters — which took nearly a minute — and then, holding his breath, he checked his passive sensors.

Had they seen? Were they following? Had he given them all away?

It didn't look like it, but with all the debris, it was hard to be sure.

"Damn," he muttered, scowling and returning his attention to the front. He had to focus: try harder, be better. Their escape plan wasn't going to fall apart because of him — he'd make sure of it.

Fortunately, he was already getting closer to the outer edge of the Shoal Zone now, and the debris was beginning to thin out. The pinging of metal on metal dropped off, getting slower and quieter, as though a squall had passed overhead and now the rain was beginning to slow.

For the next ten minutes or so, nothing else broke his concentration. Somewhere in the back of his mind was his awareness of his Conductor's status and the rest of the team, but his focus was purely on his controls and dodging what lay ahead. At times like this, he felt _alive_ , like the lines separating him from the rest of the universe — the borders where Tobio ended and everything else began — were beginning to blur.

It didn't matter whether he was tracking and evading dozens of pieces of scrap metal or a dozen enemy mobile suits: this was what he was made for.

Even so, by the time he cleared the debris field, he had to let out a shaky breath of exhaustion. His body, angry at being ignored for so long, now suddenly made itself heard — he was panting, his mouth dry, and his muscles trembled with fatigue. His pilot suit felt uncomfortably itchy with perspiration too, so he pulled off his helmet and unzipped it as far as his navel to try to get some ventilation. He shook out his hair, sending a spray of sweat droplets throughout the cockpit; he'd have to clean it up later, but for now he was just glad of the cooler air on his skin.

" _Report in,"_ Commander Kuroo said over the comm, sounding anxious. " _Everyone still in one piece?"_

Tobio cast an expert eye over his status readouts. His Conductor had only been performing at about 80% when he'd first launched several hours ago, and now it had picked up a whole mess of small issues, all showing up as a collection of blinking yellow and orange symbols: sensor glitches, thruster warnings, temperature alerts, low fuel... "Kageyama here _,"_ he replied. "I'm in one piece, but suffering from minor malfunctions."

" _Likewise_ ," Yamamoto added.

_"I'm good!"_ Noya said. " _That was fun. Can we do it again?"_

The Johzenji pirate guy laughed. " _I know, right? It was like an old arcade game."_

There was a long, weary sigh, which Tobio belatedly recognised as Kuroo's. " _Hinata. What about you? Is Inuoka okay?"_

Tobio craned his neck, searching his displays to try to spot Hinata. He'd been towing what was left of Inuoka's Defender along, which would have slowed him down; had he hit something?

No — there he was, zooming along in his crazy, ramshackle mobile suit: salvaged RHQ parts bolted onto a half-wrecked, ten-year old Gundam frame. It was a miracle the damn thing even worked at all. For hours now, Tobio had been expecting Hinata to slam into a chunk of metal when his thrusters failed, or explode when his weapon overloaded or his reactor went critical, or maybe his ejection system would fire spontaneously, catapulting the red-haired lunatic into space. Except the ejection system wasn't even working, because they'd had to rip out the old cockpit to completely overhaul it and hadn't restored full functionality yet.

Shaking his head, Tobio reset the laser commlink and re-established communications to it. Again.

"Oi, dumbass," he said. "Kuroo wants to know your status."

" _Oh! Sorry, comms must have cut off again,_ " Hinata chirped. " _I'm_ a _ll good, I think. Inuoka says hi too; he's in here with me. He's a bit banged up, but that's all."_

... what?

"Wait. Inuoka is in your cockpit?"

" _Did you get debris in your ears? Yes, Kageyama, Inuoka's in my cockpit."_

Of all the _stupid_ things to do — had Inuoka really climbed out of his Defender and into Hinata's mobile suit while flying through that insane debris field? It would be like running through a hail of bullets — even something the size of a pea would have been fatal at those speeds! "Are you both crazy? What the hell— _"_

_"Alright, enough,"_ Kuroo said sharply. " _The important thing is that everyone's okay. Now, next question: any sign of pursuit?"_

According to the plan, if there was pursuit, then they would have to act as a decoy themselves this time to try to lead their pursuers away from the _Karasuno —_  which was effectively a one-way trip.

His Conductor's sensors had taken some damage from micro-impacts, but his mobile suit could combine data from the rest of the team and put together a clearer picture than any one of them would have individually. "Nothing on my sensors, sir," he replied.

Kuroo let out a soft whistle of relief. " _Good. Then let's catch up with the_ Karasuno. _Remember, we're not out of the woods yet, so stay in silent running — avoid anything that could give our position away."_

 

* * *

 

By the time they caught up to the _Karasuno_ almost an hour later, Tobio felt a little better. He'd quenched his thirst and wolfed down a couple of ration bars, and even though he still felt like he'd just run a marathon, somehow he remained alert. Mostly he'd been bored, so he'd occupied himself by reviewing footage his Conductor had captured during the decoy operation — things his long-range sensors had picked up earlier that he hadn't had time to check into until now.

It was hard to tell — the distance and Minovsky interference made everything fuzzy — but judging by the sparkling umbrella of point defence fire, it looked like one of the enemy warships had actually come some way into the Shoal Zone. Probably they'd hoped to get close enough to take out the _Karasuno_ with their cannons as it tried to escape. It didn't look like many of the mobile suits had got caught in the first explosion though, since plenty had come to chase the _Aquila_ when it started moving. And it was unlikely any of them had been taken out when the _Aquila_ exploded, since they were too far away, but from the way they'd buzzed around searching afterwards it looked like they'd fallen for the illusion. Maybe they were looking for survivors, or maybe just trying to figure out what had happened; either way, they hadn't followed.

And now the _Karasuno_ itself — accompanied by Johzenji's transport, apparently named ' _It's Party Time!'_ — was far enough away that it could use its own engines without fear of being spotted, as long as they kept it to low power.

Just in case, however, Captain Ukai wanted some of the mobile suits to stay on guard.

" _We're proceeding at best speed on a roundabout course towards the rendezvous point_ ," he said. " _It looks like we got away with it, but just in case the Loyalists catch on, I want a third of the mobile suits on escort duty until further notice — rotating two hour shifts. Ennoshita, Kuroo, work it out amongst yourselves._ "

Tobio glanced down at his HUD, swiping through the menus to bring up a status display for the whole team. They'd fully integrated the Nekoma suits now so they were all part of the same team as far as the systems were concerned, and as one of the two coordinators, Tobio could look at the team-wide status information his mobile suit was relaying to the commanders and the carrier. Unsurprisingly, the Defenders were lowest on fuel, since they'd been moving around the most, and there had been a few dings here and there — even on the mobile suits that had remained with the _Karasuno_. Tanaka, Tsukishima, Kozume, and Shibayama had all suffered minor damage at some point, though none were as badly battered as those that had gone with the _Aquila._ He couldn't see similar information for the pirates, but a quick glance at his sensors showed none were missing at least.

" _I'll volunteer!"_ Hinata said, as enthusiastically as if he were asking to be first in line for free ice cream. " _I just need to give Inuoka a lift back to the ship first."_

There was obviously something wrong with him. Maybe he wasn't actually human; maybe he was an experimental prototype cyborg, except they'd wired his brain up wrong and given him three times as much stamina as they were meant to.

But if Hinata was volunteering, then Tobio had to volunteer too. He couldn't let the little twerp win, even if Tobio wanted nothing more than to collapse onto his bed and sleep for about ten years.

"Me too," he said gruffly, checking his fuel reserves. "I just need to top up my fuel tanks first."

" _You're monsters, both of you_ ," Ennoshita said; Tobio could practically hear him rolling his eyes. " _Okay then, Kageyama, Hinata, Yamaguchi, and I will take first shift. Everyone else, head home, get some rest, and let the techs see to your suits._ "

Nobody complained, so one by one the off-duty mobile suits landed on the catapult decks and walked back into the hangars. Rather than burn their own fuel to keep pace with the warship as it continued to accelerate towards its destination, the escorts landed on the deck too, locked in place by the powerful electromagnets in their feet and literally standing guard. Tobio joined them after a quick refuelling, coming to rest near Hinata's hideous mobile suit.

" _Where are we going, anyway_?" Yamaguchi asked after a few minutes of peace and quiet. He'd swapped to a team-only channel, so they could talk amongst themselves without bothering anyone else. " _And do we know if the_ Fukurodani _will even be there?_ "

" _The rendezvous point is an old asteroid mine, abandoned after everything of value was extracted_ ," Ennoshita replied, yawning. " _Whether the_ Fukurodani _is coming or not isn't clear yet, but it'll take us a few days to get there so hopefully we'll receive an answer before then. Even if we don't, the mine is in the middle of nowhere on its own orbit around Earth, out beyond Luna's, so with a bit of luck nobody will think to look for us there._ "

" _I hope Johzenji don't mind coming with us_ ," Hinata said quietly. " _They took a big risk, helping us like that, and now they're homeless_."

"They knew what they were getting into," Tobio replied.

" _That doesn't make it any better, Kageyama!_ "

Tobio frowned, replaying his words in his head and deciding they hadn't come out right. "I meant that it was their choice, that's all. If they decided to come with us, they must have had good reasons." Not that he knew what they were; it was inconceivable to him why a gang of Neo Zeon pirates would decide to help them. Maybe they were more defective cyborgs from the same insane factory Hinata came from.

" _Kageyama's right_ ," Ennoshita added. " _They don't seem like the type of people to do things unless they want to do them._ _But either way, we definitely owe them one now._ "

" _I hope so_ ," Hinata said, mollified. " _It's not like we can afford to lose any more friends right now._ "

Another period of quiet followed, during which Tobio began a diagnostics check on his Conductor. After such a long, exhausting mission, even a pristine suit could suffer problems, so it was sensible to run a deeper check to make sure nothing unexpected had failed silent without him realising. Besides, it would save the techs time when he docked; they would have enough on their hands as it was.

He was tempted to take a nap, but the knowledge that Hinata was probably wide awake in his cockpit — probably listening to some shitty pop music, maybe even dancing around along to it — made him decide otherwise. Instead, he kept one eye on his sensors, though the bridge crew on the _Karasuno,_ with access to the ship's powerful scopes, would likely warn him of any trouble before he could spot it himself.

" _How was your new Gundam, Hinata?_ " Yamaguchi asked. He sounded sleepy; maybe he was talking just to keep himself awake.

" _OH! Yamaguchi, it's_ amazing _! Like_ shwoom _and_ vzoot _and_ kablam _!_ "

Tobio cleared his throat. "It keeps glitching out of the tactical net."

" _Yeah, Chief Shimada said that might happen_ ," Hinata replied airily. " _He said they had to write a software patch to fool your Conductor into thinking it's an Avenger when it's not. So not only is it awesome, it's also like it's undercover! Like a spy but also a mobile suit!_ "

"Tch. Dumbass," Tobio said, folding his arms. Of all the stupid things to get excited about.

" _You're not jealous, are you, Kageyama?_ " Hinata asked, humour in his voice; up ahead, his mobile suit turned around to face Tobio and posed in some ridiculous heroic pose, gun pointed skyward. " _Because if you are, hard luck. I'm not sharing my baby._ "

" _It's your baby now, is it?_ " Yamaguchi asked, laughing.

" _Of course! It's the very first Avenger Gundam, and I've called him Natsuo, after my baby sister but as a boy instead._ "

Tobio scrunched up his face, torn between mocking Hinata's choice and wondering whether he should name his Conductor too. Something powerful and clever though, not just a boring person's name. Maybe something with 'typhoon' in it? Could a typhoon be clever?

" _Have you gathered enough data for the simulators yet?_ " Ennoshita asked. Since the so-called 'Avenger Gundam' was a custom design, there was no real flight data yet to base an accurate simulation on, so Hinata had been unable to train properly for his new mobile suit in the simulator pods. The only solution was to gather real data by flying in the actual suit.

" _I hope so. I want to test to make sure we can still pull off the Quickshot in it_ ," Hinata replied. " _Unless... Kageyama, want to test it now?_ "

"How?" Tobio replied. "We've got no targets."

" _Oh yeah._ " A pause. " _Say, Yamaguchi —_ "

" _Nope. Absolutely not,_ " Ennoshita said. " _You are not using your teammate as a target drone._ "

Hinata let out a wail of disappointment. " _I wouldn't actually shoot him!_ "

" _All the same, I'd rather not,_ " Yamaguchi said apologetically.

"It's not a good idea yet anyway," Tobio said, checking through the limited status info coming from the Avenger Gundam. "Your suit is reporting all sorts of failures and if it keeps dropping out of the network it's not going to work."

Hinata sighed. " _Next time, then._ "

When the conversation tailed off, Tobio assumed he was going to get some peace and quiet again and turned his attention back to the diagnostics, but he was wrong. Instead, Hinata's mobile suit raised a hand and fired a communications cable at Tobio's Conductor from one finger. Then a light began flashing on his console, indicating an incoming call over the contact link.

"What now?" he asked, answering it.

For a moment there was no response, and he double checked the channel to make sure he'd accepted the call, but then Hinata spoke.

" _Look, I've been meaning to talk to you,_ " he said, unusually serious. " _And this might not be the best time, but we've got two hours to kill and if I can't practise the Quickshot, I've got nothing better to do_."

A tremor of unexpected nervousness ran through Tobio's gut. "Talk about what?" he asked cautiously.

" _You and me._ "

Tobio paused. "If this is about the toothpaste again, I already told you —"

" _It's not._ " Hinata let out an audible sigh, and Tobio could almost picture him curling up in his cockpit, arms around his legs; it was a position he sometimes adopted in their shared cabin when he was feeling down or nervous, sitting on his bed and resting his chin on his knees. Tobio always thought it must be uncomfortable to sit like that — it squished up his face and made him about as small as it was possible for a person to get.

"So what is it about...?" he asked, unable to hide the trepidation in his voice.

Over the couple of weeks or so they'd spent in the Shoal Zone, the two of them had reached a sort of uneasy truce. They'd continued to bicker, but they'd done that even before. But having to live together meant that they couldn't be at each other's throats all the time, so without ever actually discussing it, they'd mutually agreed not to mention any of the big issues that set each of them off and tried to stay out of each other's way. It wasn't ideal, but it was enough to let them work together without murdering each other.

" _Do you think you owe me for saving your life?_ "

Whatever Tobio had been expecting — maybe something about the Quickshot, or (he dared to hope) perhaps an apology for Hinata's habit of accidentally standing on him whenever he got up to go pee during the night — it wasn't that.

"What are you talking about?"

" _Tch, come on, Kageyama_ ," Hinata said impatiently. " _Back at Miyagi, when the fakes were shooting at you."_

Tobio knew perfectly well what he'd meant; he'd simply panicked and blurted out the first words that entered his head. But he was also a terrible liar, so he let out a long breath through his nose and braced himself for the truth — or part of it, at least. "Maybe a little."

" _Well don't. It's stupid_ ," Hinata said. " _We're not samurai or noble knights slaying dragons. We're soldiers. It's our job to protect people, including each other. It shouldn't have to be something special._ "

Tobio worked his mouth, trying to form words that his brain couldn't provide. How could he explain it? How could he tell Hinata that it _was_ something special, at least to him? Nobody had ever done anything like that for him before. And after the academy, he'd doubted anyone ever would. "It is to me," was all he managed to force out in the end.

Hinata huffed. " _Alright, whatever. If you want to keep a tally, that's fine. I bet I win it anyway. But what's not fine is you changing the way you behave because of it._ "

"What?" Tobio demanded. "I haven't changed."

" _Yes, you have_ ," Hinata insisted, a hint of temper heating his tone. " _You're more cautious, more by-the-book — like you've turned into a goody two-shoes. That's weird enough, but now whenever we fly together, it's like you go into overdrive with it. You keep micromanaging me. 'Stay in formation', 'stick to this target', 'watch out for that', 'make sure you look both ways before crossing the road'."_

"Because that's what I'm supposed to do."

_"Not_ all the time! _It's like you're monitoring every little move I make and it's super annoying. At first I thought it was because you stopped trusting me. But then Azumane said something that made me reconsider. Are you trying to_ shield _me, Kageyama? To keep me safe because I saved your life?_ "

He waited, breathing loudly enough for Tobio to hear the faint crackling of it over the commlink.

The more Tobio considered the ridiculous accusation, the angrier he got. Yes, he was grateful that Hinata had saved his life. And it was true he'd gotten into the habit of keeping an eye on him — like during their escape from the Shoal Zone earlier. But it wasn't because he was afraid for Hinata, or because he felt some kind of stupid life debt.

It was because Hinata was _dangerous_.

He crossed his arms and grunted in annoyance. "Are you serious?" he snapped. "I _don't_ trust you. You're untrustworthy. If I don't babysit you, who knows what reckless thing you'll do next?"

Hinata spluttered with indignation. " _Untrustworthy_?! Babysitting? _I don't need a babysitter, Kageyama! And it's not your job to tell how and how not to fly. It's—_ "

"It _is_ my job," Tobio said, raising his voice. "Especially if you _make_ it my job!"

There was another brief period of heavy breathing, full of barely restrained anger. " _You're a combat coordinator, not my commander. And the job of a combat coordinator is to support the pilots of his team. I may not have gone to some fancy elite academy, but my instructors taught me that much. Am I wrong?"_

"It's not that simple," Tobio protested, wishing once again that his brain could form words at least as fast as he could speak, because he was struggling to articulate what he meant. It was so frustrating when you only thought of the right way to say something after you'd already said it the wrong way. He forced himself to slow down, to take a breath and think it through, and fortunately — for a change — Hinata let him do so. "It's like... like an orchestra. Lots of instruments all making noise. But it's no good if they're not playing the same tune. And you're too unpredictable, you like to do your own thing."

That's why the Quickshot had been so useful. Not just because of how effective it was, but also because it gave Hinata a clear role that he could stick to — it made him easier to manage.

" _A conductor on his own makes no music, Kageyama,_ " Hinata said wearily. " _You need the... um, oboes and giant violins and drums and stuff too._ "

"What the hell is an oboe?"

" _I think it's like a big flute? I'm not really sure_." Hinata groaned. " _It's not really important, is it? My point is that the conductor is meant to help support the people who play the instruments._ "

"But if they insist on playing a different tune, they'd get kicked out of the concert," Tobio shot back. He was losing the thread of the conversation and regretting he'd ever brought up the analogy, but it was an example Oikawa had used back at Kitagawa and it had stuck with him ever since.

" _So you want to kick me out of the team?_ " Hinata said bitterly. " _Because I don't do everything exactly the way you want it done? Can't you trust me to have a mind of my own?_ "

"How can I when half the time you're more of a liability than a help?" Tobio yelled. "Every time you jet off on your own or get tunnel vision while chasing down a single target, I have to compensate for that by getting someone else on the team to cover for you. And last time, it was _me_ who had to cover for you, and we both know how that ended."

_Thousands of people died._

Tobio was breathing hard and his pulse was racing, ready to really lay into Hinata. He'd broken their unspoken truce and brought up Miyagi and he had every expectation that they'd end up shouting at each other until they went hoarse.

Instead, unpredictable as always, Hinata wrong-footed him by staying silent for a long time. It got to the point that Tobio had to glance at his comms display to check that the connection hadn't been cut without him realising it.

" _I... never really thought of it like that,_ " Hinata finally admitted in a small voice. " _But the way you use me, especially in the Quickshot — it's like I might as well be a machine, just a rapid-firing gun that you can trigger remotely."_ His volume and energy were increasing again now, his tone becoming stubborn and aggressive. " _I don't want to be your slave, Kageyama, just blindly carrying out your instructions. I know I can do more. I_ have _to do more. And I won't let you hold me back._ "

In some ways, things might have been easier if they were all flying older style mobile suits, ones like the Gundam that Hinata now flew. Teams back then were more like a collection of individuals. Sure, there were tactics and some degree of organisation to try to encourage cooperation, like wingmen and formations and so on, but it was not remotely comparable to the coordination that a Conductor could offer. But the very nature of the role of combat coordinator meant that Hinata had to be subservient: it was Tobio's job to instruct each team member as appropriate in order to execute the commander's orders. And to do that effectively, he had to know what each member could do and couldn't do. Hinata was a piece of the jigsaw that simply didn't fit, because he was so erratic — sometimes he failed to do things he could easily do in training, and sometimes he came out with brand new moves completely out of nowhere.

Ultimately, Tobio was the one with the big picture. Hinata might think his latest crazy idea would save everyone, but — just like last time — it was just as likely to get people killed if he didn't understand the wider situation.

Tobio didn't want to lose any more teammates. But if Hinata wouldn't accept his instructions, then there was simply no way they could work together.

"Then you'll have to find another combat coordinator," he said grimly. "Because I don't want to be responsible the next time you decide to go wild and end up getting people killed."

This time, Hinata really did cut the connection.

 

* * *

 

It was late, well after business hours, but ever since his wife's death Virgil had become accustomed to spending most of his time in his office. It was a luxurious room, which helped, and he had assistants on hand 24 hours a day if he needed anything. But he was a man with a goal, a _vision_ , and all those trivialities of life that once seemed so important no longer concerned him. While some of his competitors would waste away their hours playing golf, or visiting the opera, or indulging in some other inane frivolity, he spent his plotting, working, thinking.

Yet now that the wheels were in motion and his plan was underway, Virgil had found that the hardest part was _waiting_. He had spent years laying the foundations for this moment, finding the right people, placing them in the right positions, funnelling money to where it would have the greatest impact... Now all he could do was let things play out, nudging the tiller from time to time to keep things on course as best he could. He had to resist the temptation to meddle, to change things, because doing so carelessly would only disrupt his operation. Karina had always described him as a control freak, which he couldn't deny, and indeed he used to remind her that his eye for detail was what made him a good businessman. Unfortunately, it also made him an impatient and irritable insurrectionist.

His half-eaten meal sat on his desk, forgotten, and he sipped at his wine as he stared at the huge viewscreen on his office wall. It was difficult to take in an overview of an entire society, billions of people spread over planets, moons, and space colonies, no matter how big the display was, but he'd tried his best. Estimates of military strength, fleet movements, opinion polls, news reports, feedback from his agents, and production figures... everything was there, continuously updating.

Virgil permitted himself a small smile. For the most part, things were on track and proceeding according to his expectations.

There was, however, one particular annoyance: the _Karasuno_ , the previously nondescript warship that had shot its way out of a shipyard and escaped his trap at Miyagi. He'd set an outrageously large bounty for information leading to their capture or destruction, which had been something of a mistake given the sheer volume of responses he'd received; most were simple cases of mistaken identity, some were chancers hoping to con him or get lucky, and a few were credible and worth following up, but all needed to be checked. He'd had to set up an entire department to deal with it.

It's not like he feared them. The _Karasuno_ was one badly damaged ship, hiding out in deep space somewhere, on the run from both sides of the civil war. He had used his media empire to ensure that they were vilified beyond measure, held up as the poster child for the worst excesses of military brutality. If they showed their faces anywhere, they would be shot at and spat on. They could not possibly know enough to threaten his work, had no way to communicate it or act on it if they did, and their inevitable destruction would end up a minor footnote at best in the history of his revolution.

But Virgil could not abide loose ends. They were like pieces of grit in his shoe — harmless but annoying. And the ripples the _Karasuno_ caused had necessitated some improvisation on his part, which he was never fond of. He'd been forced to start tracking everyone who may have come into contact with them, any people or transmissions that may have left Miyagi, and enact contingency plans to ensure that he had measures in place to counter any danger to his operation. If that meant setting up an enormous refugee camp to "care for" the Miyagi evacuees, or pulling strings with the Junta to ensure that the Loyalist forces chasing them were firmly under control, then so be it. He could afford the expense, the favours it cost; he could not afford things to go wrong at this stage.

He'd hoped he'd caught a lucky break the day before when a highly credible tip came in; he'd forwarded the information to the EFSF at once to act upon and had authorised the initial payout for verified information.

And then, despite everything, the _Karasuno_ had apparently slipped through his fingers once more.

To be fair, the picture wasn't 100% clear. There had been a large explosion, and wreckage of a mobile suit carrier had been found, but some of the initial reports suggested it might just have been a decoy — some old wreck of the same design, conveniently detonated after leading the Loyalist forces on a wild goose chase. On the other hand, a full-scale search of the Shoal Zone was taking place and had found no sign of the _Karasuno_ , so it was possible they really had been destroyed. But Virgil wouldn't be satisfied until he had the ship's charred nameplate decorating the lawn outside his headquarters.

Draining his wineglass, he sighed and shook his head. He couldn't afford to get sidetracked; he'd done all he could. If the _Karasuno_ really had survived, they'd get hunted down next time they showed themselves. Until then, they would be an annoyance he would just have to tolerate. In the meantime, he had more important work to do.

Pressing the controls on his desk, he called in Annika. She arrived within a minute; her punctuality was one of the many things he appreciated about her.

"Yes sir?" she asked quietly, entering the office and closing the doors behind her. Her eyes went to the display, quickly absorbing the information, before returning to meet his own.

"I think it's time to reinstate the operations against the Junta," he said, reviewing the latest opinion polls. "We don't want public opinion to tilt too far against the Rebels."

It was a delicate balance. Although the Junta represented his interests more closely, his ultimate end was best served by letting both sides weaken each other almost to destruction. By framing the Rebels for the Miyagi Massacre, he'd bolstered the Junta's position, playing on people's fears and feeding the idea that only a strong military, unshackled by the corrupt Federation Assembly and its associated bureaucracy, could restore order and protect people. He'd used his network of agents to further that agenda, suspending most operations on Junta-held colonies (except those that implicated the Rebels) and increasing operations on Rebel-held colonies and the Moon, fuelling protests and panic and working to prove that the Rebels could not be trusted to maintain order.

But if the Rebels collapsed, the civil war would end. He needed them to remain a credible threat, and so it was time to even out the scales again and restart operations that would paint the Junta in a bad light: brutal crackdowns, suppression of free speech, exposing corruption in the military, and so on. Undermining their credibility was easy enough when they had so little of it to begin with.

Annika nodded. "Very well. I make the necessary arrangements." She paused to make a note on her datapad. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

"Yes," he said, switching the display. "The AMSU production figures are below our projection." Not by much, but any deviation from his plan was to be scrutinised.

"Unfortunately we are as affected by the supply shortages and transport difficulties as everyone else," she said apologetically. "I will try to find solutions, although our facilities are already working flat out."

"I'm aware of the causes," he said — after all, to a degree it was his own fault. Martial law made life difficult for everyone. "But I think it should be possible to bring the next deep space facility online earlier than planned to make up the difference." Calling up the relevant schematics on the large viewscreen, he explained his reasoning. "The structure itself is complete, as is the manufacturing centre; we can start production while the missing systems — sensors, redundant power systems, external defences and so forth — are installed over time. It is a risk, of course, but I believe it is an acceptable one under the circumstances."

"It will mean redirecting more stock mobile suits from ICS," Annika warned. "And our friends in the Junta will not be pleased by that, since they need all the mobile suits they can get."

Virgil scowled; their "friends" were only as loyal and as obedient as the size of their bribes. "Let me handle them," he said. "I'm sure I can smooth their ruffled feathers. Besides, the faster we can increase AMSU production output, the sooner we can provide some for use by the Junta forces. That should mollify them if they complain too much."

That was the next step, of course. When the Rebels and the Junta were both on their knees, he would appear as the Junta's saviour, providing a stream of unstoppable mobile suits to wipe out the remaining Rebels. In doing so, he would earn himself an influential position in the post-war reconstruction process, prove his new inventions in battle, and set everything up for the final phase. But that was months away; first, he needed the two sides to escalate the conflict further. Thus far their encounters had been mostly limited to small skirmishes between a handful of ships. Without a few major fleet battles resulting in heavy losses, the Junta would not be desperate enough to need his help — or to pay the high price associated with it.

Maybe he could nudge things along and deal with another potential headache at the same time, however. "I understand that the Rebel leadership have made quiet overtures towards Neo Zeon — is there any further news?"

Annika consulted her datapad, reading rapidly. "The latest reports indicate that a meeting is being planned, most likely in the next couple of weeks, but there are no details as yet. However, our agents suggest Neo Zeon are reluctant to get involved at this stage, especially by allying with their 'oppressors'."

Virgil nodded. "To be expected." Neo Zeon had thus far remained surprisingly quiescent, perhaps hoping — like Virgil himself — to let the two sides exhaust themselves before taking advantage of the situation at the most opportune moment. But letting them gain the upper hand would be a major setback. "I think some gentle encouragement might be in order then. If Neo Zeon can be convinced to work with the Rebels, it would put more pressure on the Junta and help neutralise Neo Zeon in the process. We're better off if they're engaged somehow, rather than biding their time, even if they decide to fight the Junta independently." Drumming his fingers on the desktop, he stared thoughtfully up at the viewscreen. "We need to provoke them. Some outrage they can't ignore, like we did with Miyagi."

"It might be difficult to arrange a similar attack," Annika said cautiously. "If we use another AMSU unit, the risk of discovery increases considerably."

"I agree. But perhaps a cat's paw can be arranged. There must be plenty of patriotic, gung-ho Loyalist commanders who could be prodded into a convenient diplomatic blunder, yes?"

Annika smiled thinly; she seldom smiled, but the idea seemed to please her. "I'm sure I can find a suitable candidate."

"Excellent. Then please make it so."

She added another note to her datapad and then looked up once more. "The truth may in fact serve best on this occasion. Feeding details of the Neo Zeon/Rebel summit to the right ears might be sufficient to provoke an attack."

Virgil chuckled in admiration. "Oh, very elegant." In his head, he could see the dominoes lined up: hit the first one and the rest would topple. And best of all, he would have complete deniability; he would simply be fulfilling his patriotic duty to pass along critical intelligence about the enemy. "We'll need to know where the summit is to be held, however, and ensure that the Junta attack is sufficiently devastating. Inform the relevant agents that this is top priority."

"It shall be done." She glanced at the aquarium, hesitating. "What of the contingency plan? If losses are too great, the Junta may be tempted to employ drastic measures."

"Ah."

That was indeed the wild card in the deck. The Gryps Colony Laser had only just been made operational again a couple of months ago, after years of work. It was an inexact weapon, suited best to wiping out entire colonies or dense formations of enemy warships, and the sheer, horrifying power it offered meant that it was regarded as an option of last resort — not unlike the nuclear missiles that humanity had once regarded as the ultimate weapon. Situated at Side 7, close to the Junta's space-based HQ at Luna II, it was firmly under Loyalist control. If the Junta thought they were losing, especially with Neo Zeon opposing them, they might opt to wield that power instead of seeking more conventional solutions.

Naturally, that same capability made it attractive to Virgil himself, albeit for different purposes. He had therefore invested significant resources in ensuring he had some degree of access to the weapon, despite the high degree of secrecy and security around it. He was not in a position to seize control of it — at least not yet — but it was an important piece on the chess board and one he wanted to remain firmly in reserve.

"Contact General Chekhov," he said. "See if he can manufacture a reason for the weapon to be offline for the time being. An act of sabotage by suspected Rebel infiltrators would be ideal, but failing that, an accident or a breakdown or whatever else he can manage."

"As you wish," Annika said. She eyed the meal on his desk. "Would you like me to tidy that away?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes please. My compliments to the chef but my appetite simply wasn't up to the task."

She took the tray and cleared up the rest of the plates and cutlery. "Goodnight then, sir."

"Goodnight, Annika. Thank you. I will contact you if I need anything else."

It really was very satisfying to have such a competent aide.

 


	23. Greetings

Yuu had been on escort duty when their new home came into sight. Standing on the launch deck of the _Karasuno_ in his Defender, he had a front row seat as their destination grew from a bright pinprick to a lumpy grey rock over the course of an hour.

He hadn't been impressed.

It's not like he'd been expecting five star accommodation, nor were his standards high in the first place — growing up in the slums of Shangri-La meant the bar was set very low. But it felt like every time the _Karasuno_ moved, they ended up somewhere worse. Phoenix Colony was a nice, shiny, brand new colony; Miyagi had been fun, but let down by the riots and attempted bombings. Then there had been a wrecked colony in a floating junkyard, and now there was this: an ugly grey asteroid about 7 kilometres across.

What was next? A black hole?

Apparently, according to the nerds on the team (namely Chikara and Tsukishima), the rock had once been an ordinary asteroid just minding its own business. But back during the first half of the Universal Century, when the big space colony cylinders were being built, dozens of asteroids were redirected into Earth orbit to provide raw materials. The largest of them was the asteroid Juno, which had been renamed Luna II and now orbited at L3 opposite the real Moon, serving as a naval base, major shipyard, and refuelling depot. Some of the other larger asteroids had ended up as space fortresses that played major roles in the various wars of the Earth sphere, like A Baoa Qu and Solomon; after all, hundreds of metres of rock was much cheaper than forging thick metal armour, and mine shafts provided ready-made bunkers. But there were many smaller asteroids, often near-Earth asteroids rather than from the asteroid belt proper, that had been mined out and then simply abandoned.

Their new base was one of them. It looked like a mutant potato, pock-marked by metal domes where mine shafts had breached the surface. An ore processing plant with a loading wharf was built onto the front, looking like a small steering wheel bolted onto a rock, and the asteroid was gently spinning around it to provide weak gravity.

Once upon a time it had been the asteroid 1866 Sisyphus, which Tsukishima said was named for some unlucky dude doomed to roll a boulder uphill forever.

Everyone else quickly nicknamed it the 'Bolthole'.

It wasn't like they could just move in, however. First they needed to make it habitable again. Nobody had touched the place since it had been shut down nearly forty years earlier, so it was pretty spooky — cold, dark, and devoid of life. The first landing party reported that much of the air had leaked out through faulty seals, and although the solar panels outside were mostly intact, they were in dire need of some maintenance.

That was all work for the engineers though. Once his shift was up, Yuu figured he'd grab something to eat then get some sleep. Instead, after landing back in the hangar, he found himself drafted for a different job.

"Don't take your suit off just yet," Asahi said with an apologetic smile, catching him on the other side of the hangar's airlock. He wore his pilot suit and was accompanied by Shibayama, floating beside him and looking like a nervous schoolboy who had been summoned to the headmaster's office.

"What's up?" Yuu asked, rolling his shoulders and massaging his neck with his hand; wearing a helmet too long always gave him a crick in his neck.

Asahi shrugged. "Reconnaissance," he said. "Ennoshita says we're to go exploring, to see if the miners left anything useful behind and make sure there's no surprises."

A flash of annoyance shot through Yuu and he pulled a face. "Jeez, what a slave driver. I only just landed. Don't I even get a break?"

"I'm sorry," Asahi said, shrugging again. Like it was his fault, even though it was really Chikara to blame. "Are you feeling up to it? Do you need to resupply first?"

Grumbling, Yuu checked his suit's readouts. He hadn't used much oxygen, since he'd been using his Defender's supply; same for battery power. Thruster fuel was nearly full too. Good to go, except for the ache in his neck and leg and the rumblings of hunger in his stomach. "I'm all set, I guess."

Then he looked up, frowning at Asahi. "Are _you_ good to go? I mean, y'know?"

Asahi shot an embarrassed look at Shibayama, who raised his eyebrows in puzzlement, and nodded quickly. "This sort of thing is fine. I'm just glad to be useful, honestly."

Yuu gave him double thumbs-up and a grin. If Asahi was willing to go along, so was he. "Awesome." Then, turning to Shibayama, he added, "So did you pull the short straw or something, Shibayama?"

"Oh! No, not exactly. Lieutenant Ennoshita suggested —" He paused, glancing between Asahi and Yuu uncomfortably. "I was at a loose end, and, ah, the Lieutenant thought maybe three heads were better than two."

"Ennoshita thought we'd get lost," Asahi translated.

"Hey, I've got a perfectly good sense of direction!" Yuu said, puffing up with indignation. His fierce glare made both of them flinch back, so he turned away to head down the corridor and hide his angry expression in the process.

Chikara had been a pain in the butt recently, fussing over things and bossing everyone around. He hadn't exactly been laid back to start with, but since taking command he'd become even stricter and more micro-managing. And bad-tempered too, biting Yuu's head off every time he put a foot wrong. Like when he'd gone to see Asahi. But that had turned out okay in the end, hadn't it?

And now he'd assigned them a _babysitter_. A rookie, to boot!

"Honestly," he muttered, glancing back to make sure the others were following. It was bad enough to not trust him — Yuu did have a track record, after all — but Asahi too? That was what really got him worked up. It was downright rude. Not that Asahi would ever complain; he was too good-natured for that. But next time Yuu saw Chikara, he'd give him a piece of his mind. "Doesn't it bug you, Asahi?" he said, louder now. "Being ordered around by your junior? And you've got way more experience than he has. You should be in command really."

Asahi went pale. "I don't think that would be a good idea," he said quietly. "I'm grateful, really. It's probably more awkward for Ennoshita than it is for me."

"Tch." Well, whatever. It was still insulting. Yuu didn't mind the job itself — poking around an old mine might be fun — but it was a waste of Asahi's talents, and the way Chikara had gone about it rubbed him up the wrong way. If nothing else, it would have been nice to have been _asked_ , preferably after a break. And press-ganging one of Nekoma's newbies to come along just made it worse; it made Karasuno look bad.

Moving up beside him, Asahi looked at him in concern. "Are you sure you're alright, Noya?" he asked quietly. "You've not been yourself recently. Is your leg hurting?"

"A bit," he admitted, but shook his head. "It's not that. I'm just..." He paused as they came to a junction and sighed, clenching his fist in frustration. "We keep running away, Asahi. They keep hurting us and hurting us and we keep on running away. And every time we do, we end up doing bullshit things like stealing from a transport or making friends with _pirates_ or something just as crazy." As frustration boiled up inside, he let out a long, irritated groan and kicked at the nearest bulkhead. "And not just any pirates. _Neo Zeon_ pirates! Any other day, we'd be shooting at them. _"_

He gestured vaguely in the direction of the airlock. "And now instead of doing something important, like hunting down whoever's behind all this, we're just supposed to hang out here at this old mine? Sitting around while the whole Earth sphere goes to hell?!"

Tentatively, Asahi put a hand on his shoulder. He tried for a sympathetic smile, but it was a little too wobbly to be convincing, especially with the way Asahi was looking at him like an unexploded bomb. "We just need to be patient," he said soothingly. "Once the _Fukurodani_ gets here, we can resupply and figure out our next move."

" _If_ the _Fukurodani_ comes," Noya pointed out sulkily. "And if they don't immediately blast us to bits when they see that Neo Zeon hunk of junk sitting next to us."

Asahi's expression took on a fragile edge, like thin ice cracking further with every word Yuu said, so he rested his own hand atop Asahi's and quickly forced a grin onto his face. "Ah, never mind. You know me, Asahi," he said. "I'm impatient, that's all. All this waiting and uncertainty is annoying. I just want someone to point me at the bad guys so I can go blast 'em to bits!"

With a timid cough, Shibayama spoke up; Yuu had forgotten he was even there. "If it helps, sir," he said, "Commander Kuroo heard back from his friend on the _Fukurodani_ earlier — they've agreed to meet us here." He looked away, chewing on a fingernail. "I'm not sure he told them about the pirates though. Maybe he should warn them, so they know what to expect...?"

"I'm sure Kuroo will think of that," Asahi said, brightening at the good news. "He knows them best, after all."

"Or maybe we should just tell those Neo Zeon scum to fuck off," Yuu said, rolling his eyes. Every time he saw one of them, it was like a mini volcano started to spit lava somewhere deep in his gut. Okay, they'd helped the _Karasuno_ escape the Shoal Zone — and not so coincidentally helped themselves to escape in the process — but now that they were clear, there was no reason for them to hang around anymore.

Shibayama studied the deck like it was suddenly fascinating. Asahi coughed awkwardly. "They'll probably want to move on anyway," he said diplomatically. "And speaking of which, we should probably get going ourselves too?"

They made a quick pit stop for Yuu to grab some water to drink (and surreptitiously gulp down some painkillers for his leg) and then set out for the main starboard airlock. The _Karasuno_ had docked to one of the loading wharf's piers, allowing direct access to the Bolthole, and Yuu and the others joined a stream of technicians and engineers cycling through the airlock.

Their first sight of the interior reminded Yuu a little of an old trash-processing plant back on Shangri-La: a big open area filled with lots of machinery, articulated arms for moving cargo containers around, and bare industrial metal everywhere. Some of the crew had already set up portable floodlights in the loading dock and their harsh glare cast sharp, ominous shadows from all the derelict equipment. He'd half-expected to find everything left out, like in those creepy stories about ghost ships where the crew vanished mid-meal leaving no trace, but everything looked disappointingly mundane. There were no stray tools left out, no coffee mugs long gone cold. There wasn't even much in the way of dust, since the lack of spin gravity in the dock meant it had no way to settle; instead it hung in the air, along with tiny ice crystals from the freezing temperatures, and glittered in the lamplight.

And there were no creature comforts at all. From the start, the mine had obviously been planned with an expiry date; no unnecessary expense had been made, every possible corner had been cut, and anything valuable that could easily be taken away had been. It was a purely industrial facility, all function over form.

Maybe that was what made it feel so cold and lifeless.

Even so, a trill of excitement shivered through Yuu's limbs, making his fingers tingle. He'd always liked exploring new places, especially places he wasn't supposed to go, and his competitive spirit jumped at the chance to be the first person to step foot in the deeper parts of the mine after decades of neglect. If nothing else, it made a change from boring escort duty. So Yuu switched on his helmet lights and led the way to the nearest hatch, grinning.

As it turns out, they didn't have to go far to leave everyone else behind. Directly beyond the loading dock was a cargo area, which was also home to the antique life support equipment. The engineers had little reason to venture further than that, focused as they were fixing leaks and trying to get things up and running again. Which meant that Yuu and the others were the first to enter the accommodation block beyond. He recognised the style of construction: cheap, prefabricated modules bolted together. The same sort of units had become widespread after the One Year War to house all the refugees; these were older than the ones he'd seen before, but not that different.

Instead of being stacked into makeshift shanty towns in overcrowded colonies, these had been built into a series of concentric rings around the axis, like a disk of cabins slotted onto a spindle. Spoke-like elevator shafts joined each ring to the central axis. But without power, the lifts were useless, and rather than climb down frost-rimed emergency ladders in the dark, they left the lower levels until later. They probably weren't missing much anyway; the few cabins they bothered to pry open the hatches to were empty except for the fixed furniture.

Instead, they headed back to the central passageway that ran along the main axis and came to a large, sturdy hatch that they'd never be able to force open.

"Maybe there's a manual override?" Shibayama said, searching the walls with his helmet lights.

Sure enough, there was a hand wheel hidden behind an access panel — even a place as old as the Bolthole had _some_ redundancy built into it — but it was jammed stuck. Shibayama and Yuu both tried it but were unable to make it budge. "C'mon, Asahi!" Yuu said. "Show us what an ace can do!"

With a long-suffering look, Asahi gave it a go as well. Bracing himself against the bulkhead, he heaved with all his might, and with a sudden jerk the handle budged at last. He kept turning it and the doors of the hatch slowly started moving apart.

One moment Yuu was watching Asahi, cheering him on, and the next he was spinning out of control, a blast of air roaring past him. Flailing, he used the magnetic grappling gun on his belt to catch himself and hung on frantically as the hurricane vented its fury, dangling from the cord like a spider caught in the wind. Only once it calmed down to a gentle breeze, having repressurised the section they were in, did he manage to anchor his feet to the nearest surface and take a look around.

"Asahi! Shibayama! You okay?"

Asahi, it turned out, was still clinging to the handle beside the hatch; he'd been spared the worst of the sudden gust of air because he wasn't directly in its path. Like Yuu, however, Shibayama had been obviously been caught up in it, and he was right down at the far end of the passageway. Yuu ran over, fishing him out of the air by the ankle and pulling him close so he could peer into his visor. "Hey, you still alive in there?"

Shibayama blinked at him, dazed. "Uh... What happened?"

"Looks like the next section is fully pressurised," Yuu said. "We're lucky the engineers closed the hatch to the cargo area or you'd have been blown right back through." He helped Shibayama find his footing and smiled. "They don't call it explosive decompression for nothing, you know!"

"R-right..." Shibayama said shakily.

With the brief drama over, Asahi opened the hatch enough for them to squeeze through and they entered the next section — the ore processing plant.

To Yuu, it felt like climbing into the guts of some enormous, long-dead space creature, one that ate rock for lunch. There were giant crushers, big cylindrical centrifuges, tubes and pipes and robots arms to move stuff around...

"This is so cool!" he said, floating up to one of the nearby cargo arms. He turned around, pressing his back against the claw-like scoop, and started making strangled sounds. "Urk! It's got me!" he said, laughing.

"Don't joke about that, Noya!" Asahi scolded.

"Is all this to refine the ore?" Shibayama asked, shining his headlamps up around the space. The shape of it was weird; unlike the circular accommodation rings, the ore processor was more like a bow-tie shape: two long, deep sections stretching out opposite each other. Even as strong as they were, the beams from their helmet lamps struggled to plumb the depths of the huge compartments; each was way bigger than the hangars on the _Karasuno_ , though the way they were packed with machinery and criss-crossed by catwalks made it seem more claustrophobic.

"I think it just processes it," Yuu explained, moving over and joining him. "No point in shipping out millions of tons of useless rock, so all this gear is probably meant to separate the valuable stuff — iron, nickel, whatever — from the rest so it can be carted away. But the actual refining happens elsewhere. Usually on Luna, where there's enough gravity and plenty of space in case something goes boom. Nobody minds if the moon gets a new crater in the middle of nowhere."

"Have you been to a mine like this before, Noya?" Asahi asked, turning away from inspecting a long line of pressure suit lockers, most of which were empty with their doors left open. "You sound like you're familiar with it all."

"Nah, but I've met plenty of ex-miners," Yuu said cheerfully. "My Gramps knew loads of them; after most of the colonies were built, a lot of mines got shut down, and the miners had to find other work — usually industrial jobs on the older colonies." They were often the sort of cool, grizzled old people he'd admired as a kid: tough as tungsten, utterly unfazed by anything that got thrown at them, but with a sort of gruff warmth to them all the same.

He pushed off and floated over to look at one of the big pumps, which would have circulated water through the tubes to keep the rocks and minerals moving. "It was dangerous work," he added. "Lots of things to go wrong, and not much help out here if it did."

Shibayama cleared his throat with a burst of static. "Um..."

Yuu turned to look at him expectantly.

Shibayama glanced from Yuu to Asahi and back, visibly swallowing. "I, uh, was just wondering... Did either of you hear that?"

For a moment, they all paused, listening; Yuu even held his breath, but there was only silence. "No. What was it?"

For a few seconds longer, Shibayama remained frozen, but then he shook his head. "Probably just my imagination."

"Ha! You're not scared, are you, Shibayama?" Yuu said, delighted. He quickly swept his lights around the area, casting deep, flickering shadows everywhere. "Just think: anything could be hiding in here. Maybe the miners found something, and that's why they had to leave! Like, I dunno, creepy alien eggs. Or some kind of giant spaceworm that lives in asteroids!"

Asahi let out an alarmed squeak. "Noya, please..."

He turned back to the other two, laughing. Both of them had tensed up again, their helmet lights dancing as they tried to keep everything in sight all at once.

"Relax," he said. "I think we'd have heard if a mine got overrun with space monsters."

"It would have been major news," Asahi agreed, though all the same he moved to keep his back to the bulkhead and maximise his field of view. Then he went rigid, his hand darting to his pistol. "Wait, there _is_ something in here."

"Asahi..."

"I'm being serious, Noya! I heard it too — a clattering noise. Like footsteps on metal maybe."

Suddenly, like someone had flicked a switch, the big room full of cool-looking machinery took on a more sinister aspect: the darkness could hide anything, and Yuu started wondering whether those robot arms were as frozen as he thought, or whether the tubes and pipes that writhed their way through the area were really more like tentacles. His senses went into overdrive and had he not been wearing his pilot suit, the hairs on his arms and neck would have been sticking up like needles.

No need to be afraid though. They were professionals, after all. If there _was_ something hostile here, then it was their job to find it and — if necessary — kill it. Checking the status readout attached to his forearm, Yuu saw that the pressure was fairly normal, despite the mishap with the hatch — although the temperature was very, very cold.

Quickly, holding his breath again, he opened his visor. After a brief hiss as the pressure equalised, he listened...

And then he heard it: a distant _clank_ , coming from deep within the maze of equipment.

He closed his visor, his nose and throat burning as he breathed frigid air that smelled of dust and metal and fumes, then pulled out his pistol. With a quick hand signal, he pointed in the direction he'd heard the noise.

"Nobody could have survived here," Asahi said, grabbing onto some nearby pipes and moving around the other side for cover. "Right?"

"Could it be scavengers?" Shibayama whispered. "Or —" he gulped audibly, "— ghosts?"

Slowly, they descended towards the sound they'd heard, covering each other and trying to make as little noise as possible. The deeper they got, the stronger the gravity got, until they were forced to use the catwalks, staircases, and ladders — every step alarmingly loud in the otherwise silent darkness.

"This is a bad idea," Asahi murmured. "Poor visibility, making tons of noise, no idea what we're up against... We ought to call it in first."

"And what if it's something silly, like a loose bolt rattling around?" Noya said sharply, cautiously peering over the edge of the catwalk. "We'll never live it down."

"But... why would the bolt be rattling around?" Shibayama said slowly. "Unless _something_ made it move?"

The lowest level was in sight now, home to some of the largest machines and a tangle of tubing. Only a ladder led down that far, though the gravity was weak enough that Yuu could probably jump down without injuring himself if he was careful. "Shut up, Shibayama," he said, his voice taut with tension. "You two stay here and cover me. I'm going down to check it out."

Creeping along the catwalk towards the ladder, trying to make as little sound as possible, Yuu kept his eyes trained on the deck below, looking through the gaps in the catwalk. Their lights would have given away their positions, so the only chance to take whatever it was by surprise was to use speed: he'd jump down the ladder, roll, bring his gun up, and —

Something big and soft landed on him from above. The other two screamed, audible both over the radio and through the air, as the thing wrapped around Yuu and sent him toppling over the catwalk railing. He had a split second of weightlessness, his innards lurching, and then the impact of his body hitting solid steel left him winded and dazed. Something slithered across his visor, blocking his view; that _thing_ was still on top of him. He yelled, fighting to free himself from its grip. It had... tentacles? Long, floppy limbs that seemed to cling to him... He managed to buck it off him and scramble aside, bringing his pistol to bear on where he thought it was, and pulled the trigger. In the muzzle flash, he saw twisted limbs and a helmet, dark within, and he fired again, right into its face — then again, for good measure.

And then his brain caught up to what he was seeing: an empty pressure suit.

He let out a sharp bark of laughter, more from relief than amusement, and let himself fall back against the cold deck. "It's just a suit..."

"Noya! _NOYA!"_ Asahi shouted, and beams of light speared down from above, trying to locate him. When they did, Noya levered himself up again — aching all over and feeling a sharp pain from his bad leg — and waved.

"I'm okay," he said. "It was just an empty suit."

The other two clambered down, approaching cautiously; Asahi paused to prod at the suit with one boot. "You're sure it's empty?"

Yuu laughed again. "Yeah. And even if the world's skinniest person was inside, I just put two bullets through their brain." He looked upwards, the beam of his helmet lights stretching far overhead; it was almost, but not quite, a straight shot through to the central axis up above. "It must have fallen," he realised. "Maybe when we opened the hatch, this old suit got caught in the draft and then fell down, getting caught along the way."

Shibayama offered him a hand and hauled him to his feet. "Are you okay, Noya sir? That was quite a fall for you too!"

"Gimme a minute to catch my breath and I'll be fine," Yuu told him, though when he took one shaky step and nearly fell, Shibayama gently but firmly pushed him into sitting back down.

It was probably for the best. His heart was pounding away like some kind of pneumatic drill and his head was spinning.

"For a moment there, I thought there really was a ghost," Asahi admitted, sitting down next to him and patting him on the shoulder. "When it jumped down on top of you out of nowhere..."

"Ghosts aren't real, Asahi," Noya told him, breathing a little easier now. Though when his eyes found the shattered helmet he'd shot, he frowned. For just a fraction of a second, when he'd seen that dark, empty helmet, he'd thought the same.

Shibayama bundled up the suit, shoving it away, before sitting cross-legged nearby. He glanced up, tracing the path the falling suit must have taken, and then bit his lip thoughtfully. "They say Newtypes can talk to the dead," he said, quietly, tentatively. "If that's true, then it means people don't just disappear when they die. They... they stay, they watch over us. Try to protect us or guide us."

Yuu didn't know what to say to that. He could be superstitious, yeah — he blamed his Gramps for that — but he hadn't believed in spooks or spectres or any other monsters that lived in the dark since he was a little kid. Why should he, when there were so many all-too-real people willing to become monsters who were much scarier?

But Newtypes were a different thing altogether, and if Shibayama was right... "You believe in Newtypes?" he asked Shibayama curiously. For all the time they'd spent training together, Yuu didn't know him that well. The kid was a bit shy, especially around his seniors, and when he did talk it was usually to ask questions about others rather than talk about himself.

Shibayama nodded. "Yeah." He glanced at Yuu, quick and unsure. "Do... do you?"

"I do these days," Yuu said firmly. "At first I just thought it was a daft religious thing — y'know, something the Zeons cooked up to try to make themselves sound better than everyone else. Evolving into a higher being and all that shizz. But after Asahi told me about the Battle of Axis... He was _there_. He saw an entire asteroid glow and change direction before it could hit the Earth. With his own eyes. Right, Asahi?"

Asahi shrugged. "That's what I saw."

"Suga and Daichi saw it too," Yuu went on. "Daichi was always sceptical, but Suga was convinced that it was a Newtype thing. Too many people saw a miracle happen for it to be anything other than real. Since then I've always wanted to meet a real Newtype, find out just what they can do." He massaged his aching leg, lips pursed. "I hadn't heard about them speaking to the dead though. You're sure?"

"I... I've never met one either," Shibayama said, fiddling absently with the suit controls on his forearm, "so it's only... faith, I guess. But yes, that's what I believe."

He didn't sound like he wanted to say anything else, and frankly Yuu had had enough of talking about ghosts as well; even after getting over the shock of being assaulted by an empty suit, that creepy, sinister atmosphere from earlier remained. Besides, the cold from the deck was beginning to seep through Yuu's pilot suit, so he struggled to his feet and tested his leg. It hurt, but it seemed to be working. "Okay, we've slacked off long enough. Come on."

It took a bit of chivvying to get them moving; the other two had no more desire to sit in the dark than Yuu did, but they kept fussing over him. In truth, Yuu wasn't looking forward to climbing all the way back up to the central axis, but there wasn't much choice.

Halfway there, the lights flickered on.

"Great," Asahi muttered. " _Now_ the lights come on."

 

* * *

 

By the time the _Fukurodani_ arrived a week later, the _Karasuno_ crew had managed to turn the small asteroid into something more welcoming. It had taken a while to get life support back online and seal the various breaches caused by decades of neglect and micrometeorites, but once the power, heaters, and ventilation system were all working again it was substantially more comfortable.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much in the way of supplies remaining aboard. Lots of mothballed heavy machinery and plenty of water in the tanks, but no spare parts for modern systems and no significant stocks of food. Although one of the scouting teams — perhaps unsurprisingly, the one with Tanaka, Yamamoto, and the pirate Terushima — had found the miners' bar on the lowest accommodation level. It hadn't taken long for Johzenji and a few other willing helpers to restore it and start defrosting the leftover booze.

Aside from that, the Bolthole was unnervingly empty. Nobody had touched the place since it had been decommissioned nearly forty years earlier, so it had been spooky at first. Even once the lights were back on and the musty air had been warmed up enough to breathe without freezing your lungs, people avoided the deeper parts of the mine: the ore processing plant and especially the kilometres of mining shafts that branched off a big tunnel running through the centre of the asteroid. Rumours quickly spread of unearthly noises and weird phenomena (helped along by Noya's exaggerated tales of defeating a vengeful spirit in mortal combat, of course) and before long the mining tunnels gained the reputation as being haunted, which was probably just as well as it served to keep people out and therefore stopped them from getting lost or falling down any holes.

Mostly, at least. Only a passing comment by Yamaguchi allowed Chikara to intercept Tanaka, Noya, Hinata, Yamamoto, and Fukunaga before they embarked on a "ghost hunt". Given their collective lack of self-preservation instincts, they would undoubtedly have never been seen again. There was often a fine line between bravery and stupidity and sadly many of Chikara's teammates loved to play hopscotch along it.

But to Chikara, as tiring as it was to reactivate the mining base and keep his wayward charges from doing anything suicidally stupid, it was a welcome change of pace from the chaos of the days following the Miyagi and the hectic escape from the Shoal Zone. There was no immediate danger, no need for constant patrols, and the steady drumbeat of ordinary duties was almost enough to keep his mind off the gnawing self-doubt and crippling uncertainty about the future.

Almost.

When the _Fukurodani_ finally showed up — larger and more powerful than the _Karasuno_ , and resplendent in black, white, and gold — it was like a visit by royalty or foreign dignitaries. They couldn't exactly throw a parade, but the exhausted men and women of the _Karasuno_ were so pleased to see friendly faces for a change that they decked out the zero-g loading wharf with brightly coloured streamers, a few "WELCOME FUKURODANI" banners, and bombastic music playing over the tannoy system. He'd expected Captain Ukai to shut it all down, but he must have decided they'd earnt some leeway and let them have their fun. He even smiled as he waited in line with Takeda, Kuroo, Chikara, and the other senior officers to welcome the Fukurodani contingent aboard. An even bigger welcoming party formed from off-duty crew stood in formation behind them, full of eager anticipation.

It all came as something of a shock to Fukurodani. They were obviously wary and on guard, willing to give _Karasuno_ the benefit of the doubt but not stupid enough to rendezvous without taking precautions, so they had a quartet of mobile suits flying close escort during the approach and a squad of baffled marines were the first to disembark. They formed an uncertain guard around the hatchway while the _Karasuno_ 's crew cheered them like conquering heroes, paving the way for a middle-aged man who was no doubt the captain and a small group of other officers, all of whom were equally bewildered by the unexpected reception.

Well, all except one.

"KUROO!" bellowed a tall, beefy man with wide, golden eyes and a manic smile. He thrust his arms into the air and strode towards them, heedless of the marines and his captain's words of warning, his head thrown back like he was a rock star basking in his audience's applause.

"Bokuto! Good to see you, bro!" Kuroo declared, likewise breaking formation and completely abandoning propriety to greet his friend with a high five, a fist bump, and then a bear hug.

As ridiculous as the sight was, it did serve to break the ice. The rest of the Fukurodani gang came forward as well, while the Karasuno welcoming committee moved to greet them.

"Hey, lemme introduce you," Kuroo said, one arm still looped over Bokuto's shoulders and looking happier than Chikara had ever seen him.

"Oh no..." Kozume murmured from beside Chikara, taking a step back and slipping behind him, as if trying to use him as a human shield.

Chikara understood why a few moments later, after Kuroo had introduced him, when Bokuto promptly wrapped his arms around Chikara and squeezed. Presumably it was meant to be an act of friendship rather than a fearsome demonstration of raw strength, but either way it left Chikara gasping, red-faced, and rubbing his chest to check for cracked ribs.

"Hi," he wheezed, taking a step back in case Bokuto wanted to try again.

"And you remember Kenma, of course?" Kuroo said with a vindictive smirk. He laughed as Bokuto actually chased Kenma down, finally cornering him and squeezing the life out of him as well.

"I apologise," a quiet, weary voice said, and Chikara turned to find an extremely pretty man with messy black hair and hooded eyes watching Bokuto like a sleep-deprived parent babysitting a toddler. "I did ask him to restrain himself, but he was too excited to listen." He held out his hand to Chikara. "I'm Lieutenant Keiji Akaashi, second-in-command of the Fukurodani mobile suit team."

Kuroo had gone to rescue Kozume, so Chikara was temporarily left alone with him. "Pleasure to meet you," he replied, shaking Akaashi's hand warily. Going by Bokuto's precedent, he expected to have his fingers crushed (to join his bruised ribs), but Akaashi apparently did not possess his commander's bear-like strength. Or maybe he did and was just better at controlling it.

Akaashi looked young to be second-in-command of a mobile suit team, but then there was a war on; it wasn't impossible that he'd been promoted to fill the slot, just as Chikara had been. Although if that were true, Akaashi seemed way more at ease with his situation than Chikara did; he had an air of unflappable confidence about him.

"My condolences for your losses," Akaashi said solemnly, as if reading his mind. When Chikara gave him a startled look, he added, "I thought it prudent to familiarise myself with your personnel as well as recent events." He glanced over at Kuroo and Bokuto, who were now talking animatedly while Kenma hung back, playing with his datapad. "Bokuto was quite distraught when he heard the news about Miyagi."

"You all know each other well, then?" Chikara asked. He knew Kuroo had worked together with them in the past, but not to what extent.

Akaashi nodded. "We were part of the same task force and got to know each other during a series of training exercises; Captain Yamiji had great respect for Commodore Nekomata. But I believe Bokuto and Kuroo first met during the Second Neo Zeon conflict three years ago."

Chikara gestured weakly at Kuroo, who was in the middle of some kind of impersonation that had Bokuto in stitches. "Are they usually like this?"

"I'm afraid so," Akaashi sighed. He nodded in greeting as Kozume — fleeing the noise — sidled back over to them. "Lieutenant Kozume. You're keeping well?"

Kozume peered at him briefly before returning his gaze to his datapad. "Still alive," he said, shrugging.

Compared to the easy camaraderie between Kuroo and Bokuto, the atmosphere between Kozume and Akaashi was considerably more frosty.

"I am also Fukurodani's lead combat coordinator," Akaashi said, as if that explained everything. When Kenma gave a wry little snort, he added, "We have a friendly rivalry of sorts."

It didn't look particularly friendly, but Chikara took his word for it. He glanced over at Ukai and Takeda, who were deep in conversation with the _Fukurodani_ 's captain, and his gaze caught on the marines behind them, near the loading gate; they were all smiles now, chatting to curious Karasuno crew and enjoying being treated like heroes.

"I'm assuming you've seen the news reports about us," he said, sighing. It was understandable from a rational point of view, but it still hurt to be treated with such suspicion and wariness. Even a month ago and they would have greeted each other as comrades; now, every stranger was a potential enemy, not a potential friend.

Akaashi followed his gaze and nodded. "Naturally." He shrugged awkwardly and appeared faintly embarrassed. "It's not as though any of us truly believed you were mass murderers, but in the current climate it pays to be careful. After all, we knew the _Nekoma_ , not the _Karasuno_."

"Did you bring all the supplies we requested?" Kozume asked him.

"Most, but not all." Akaashi sighed. "It is not as though we could tell the depot why we needed so many spare parts for a dozen mobile suits when all of ours were intact, let alone parts for a warship of a completely different class. It took some... finesse."

"I figured you'd just steal them," Kozume said, raising an eyebrow.

" _You_ might have," Akaashi said, offended by the suggestion. "But it was a friendly depot. We chose not to antagonise them in order to keep it that way."

Chikara cleared his throat, hoping to break up their snippy exchange, but instead a commotion from further down the dock distracted him. When he recognised the source, he groaned.

Terushima and two of his friends — all three carrying their usual weapons, which was bound to put the marines on edge — were cheerfully wandering through the crowd handing out flyers of some kind. Which raised all sorts of questions, not least of which: where did they find the material? And where the hell did they find a _printer_?

Spotting him, Terushima angled in their direction, passing out a few more flyers as he went. He'd become a relatively common sight, both around the Bolthole and in the pilots' mess, but a polarising one. Some people, like Tanaka and Hinata, seemed to get on well with him. Others — and not just the usual suspects, like Tsukishima — did not. For his part, Chikara fell into the latter camp and tried his best to avoid him. Terushima on the other hand seemed to delight in tormenting Chikara as much as possible, especially in front of the other pilots, knowing that thanks to their weird 'alliance' there wasn't much Chikara could do about it.

It was intensely frustrating.

"Here!" Terushima said brightly, holding out three flyers — or invitations, Chikara realised, as he reluctantly took one and glanced at it:

 

_ WELCOME BASH FOR FUKORODANI _

_**21:00** TONIGHT AT THE **PARTY HOLE** _

_(Accommodation Level 4 Section 1)_

_Come get the **only booze within a million kilometres**!_

_**20% OFF** YOUR FIRST DRINK!_

 

Playing along with Terushima only seemed to encourage him, but Chikara couldn't help his exclamation of surprise: "The Party _what?_ "

Terushima leered. "The Party Hole! Our new bar!"

" _Your_ bar?" Kozume said, casually tossing away the flyer he'd been given.

Terushima grabbed it out of the air and added it back to his stack. "Yes, _my_ bar. I found it," he shot back, folding his arms. "Well, with Tanaka and Tora, but they already have jobs, so they can't run a bar. Besides, it was Johzenji who got it up and running again."

Akaashi was watching the whole exchange with an unreadable expression, though he had also taken a flyer. "You're one of the pirates, I assume," he said, and never before had Chikara heard such a neutral tone convey such distaste.

Terushima raised his eyebrows and slowly looked Akaashi up and down, tongue between his teeth. "Ex-pirates. We've gone respectable. Even have our own bar now!" Then he narrowed his eyes. "And who might you be, pretty boy?"

That put a crack in Akaashi's hitherto unflappable expression. Just a twitch of irritation, but it was there. "Lieutenant Akaashi, second-in-command of the Fukurodani mobile suit team. Also, you misspelled Fukurodani. The first 'o' should be a 'u'."

"Well then, Lieutenant Akaashi, second in command of the blah blah blah, I'm Terushima. It's a pleasure to meet me, I know. But I'm a man on a mission — I've got another fifty of these to hand out, so I can't waste time flirting. Or with spelling lessons or whatever."

Chikara felt a headache approaching rapidly. Rubbing his temples, he said, "Didn't we ask you — very politely — to stay out of the way for a while when the _Fukurodani_ arrived? And didn't you agree?"

" _Misaki_ agreed," Terushima said. A momentary frown of uncertainty passed across his face before returning to its usual arrogant, punchable state. "But I didn't. And it looks like this is where all the fun is, not to mention a whole bunch of new customers. So here we are! Make sure you come to our bar and spend lots of money." He patted Chikara on the cheek, grinned, and trotted off to find his next victim.

"Do we know if alcohol frozen for 40 years is even drinkable?" Kozume asked quietly.

"Seriously? _That_ 's your biggest concern? Though I'm sure they've sampled enough of it already," Chikara muttered. Then he remembered their company and glanced at Akaashi anxiously. "Um... Sorry about him."

"Kuroo did warn us," he said frostily. "But the reality is, if anything, worse than the expectation." Arching an eyebrow, he turned an intimidating glare on Chikara and Kozume. "Remind me again, please, why you've allowed a bunch of amoral pirates to accompany you when the _Karasuno_ is the most infamous and wanted ship in the entire solar system? Pirates that have now seen the _Fukurodani_ consorting with you, threatening our own standing in the process?"

Kozume, that wicked, _treacherous_ little man, simply pointed at Chikara. "Ask him. It was his pilots who set the whole thing up." And then, when Akaashi's gaze landed on Chikara, Kozume sidestepped and pretended to be busy with his datapad: close enough to witness the entertainment yet without being in the line of fire.

Chikara had to moisten his lips and swallow before he could speak — that flat, stern glare was seriously intimidating. Like, _Daichi_ -level intimidating. "Ah, well, you see... It's sort of a long story..."

Akaashi said almost nothing throughout his haphazard explanation. Chikara found himself sweating when he tried to justify the deal they'd struck with Johzenji and the civilian freighter, wondering whether Akaashi's unblinking eyes actually hid twin laser beams. But by the time he got onto their escape from the Shoal Zone, the lasers had been replaced by a glint of interest... right up until Chikara mentioned the bombs.

"Lieutenant Ennoshita. Please, _please_ tell me that we're not standing less than a hundred metres from a Neo Zeon pirate ship packed with nuclear warheads...?"

Chikara glanced at Kozume, who by now had stealthily shifted so that he was standing next to Akaashi instead, and silently begged for help. Kozume merely stared back with the sort of look a cat gives you before it casually knocks a precious vase to the floor.

"I wouldn't say _packed_ , exactly..." Chikara said, scratching the back of his head and desperately searching their surroundings for literally anything that could save him. Like, say, a convenient trap door that would eject him into space.

Akaashi squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. " _Any_ number of nuclear weapons in the hands of a gang of drunken pirates is too many, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, when you put it like that..."

Finally, Kozume spoke up. "I wouldn't worry about it too much," he said with a sly little grin. "Johzenji aren't the brightest bunch and their systems — especially their security systems — are old. They only have three bombs left and it wasn't hard to change the detonation codes on them."

"What?!" Chikara said, before lowering his voice and checking to make sure none of Johzenji were around. "When the hell did you do that? And why didn't you tell anyone?"

"A few days ago." Kozume shrugged. "And I did tell Kuroo. And Tora and Inuoka; they helped distract the crew."

"It will have to do," Akaashi said, giving Kozume a suspicious look. "Though if the pirates _do_ decide to use them, I imagine they won't be very happy to find out you sabotaged them."

"A problem for another day," Kozume said, unfazed. "We have plenty of other things to worry about first."

"That is true," Akaashi admitted. "Your fugitive status aside, the civil war is worsening. If things continue as they are, I very much doubt that a peaceful resolution will be possible anymore."

"How are things out there?" Chikara asked, crossing his arms. It was warm in the loading dock, especially with all the people present, but a chill ran through him all the same. "We saw some news reports, if you can call them that, but we couldn't receive a lot of broadcasts from within the Shoal Zone. And we're locked out of the more official sources of information. It's hard to know what news we can trust these days."

Akaashi looked around and then led them towards a quieter spot, beside an old conveyor system. More Fukurodani crew had disembarked, perhaps drawn by the festive atmosphere of the wharf, and it was getting noisy.

"We have consolidated a strong force centred on Side 1," Akaashi explained. Kozume was listening closely now as well, his datapad back in his pocket for a change. "But the Loyalists outnumber us three or four to one. Our only advantage so far has been that the Junta chose to spread its forces thinly, pacifying the other colonies and neutralising any other opposition."

Chikara understood. All wars were messy, but civil wars especially so; when they started, there were often no clear front lines, no obvious distinction between friend and foe. It took some time for the two sides to establish themselves.  "So once they're done consolidating their territory, they'll go on the offensive."

Akaashi nodded. "A major confrontation is inevitable. In the aftermath of Miyagi, both the military odds and public opinion were turning against us, but in the past couple of weeks, the Junta has apparently ordered a series of brutal crackdowns. It might have helped subdue some particularly rebellious colonies, but their actions have been deeply unpopular, at least where news was able to leak out. So whereas before the Junta could have simply waited until public pressure caused Kumari's government-in-exile to collapse, now they'll have to be more proactive."

"The Junta can't leave them to build more support," Kozume surmised.

"Just so," Akaashi agreed. "For now, the Junta hold the upper hand militarily, but if the current momentum continues and we are able to gain a clear advantage in public opinion, then the significant fraction of units that remain unaligned — not to mention some of the Junta's own forces — might join the Rebels. Our attempts to penetrate the jamming and communications blocks have also started to yield results. We're able to get our own message across now, countering the Junta's propaganda. So sooner rather later, the Junta will want to deal with us; they can't afford for the Rebels to gain any more legitimacy in the eyes of the public."

He sighed and scratched his head. "On the other hand, the Junta is also trying their hardest to sway people. While brutal, the Loyalists have been successful in imposing law and order, and they're spinning events like Miyagi for all they're worth. For all the lies they tell, they are right about one thing: the democratic faction can't guarantee anyone's safety. We simply don't yet have the strength to defend those who want to oppose martial law, at least outside Side 1."

"Wait," Chikara said, his blood chilling in his veins. "Events _like_ Miyagi? You mean there have been other massacres?"

"Not on the same scale. But there have been a lot of smaller incidents, on both sides." Akaashi said grimly. "Most of them quite horrific. Just yesterday, an anti-Junta movement overthrew martial law at Bevis City and ejected the garrison troops — and their families — out of the airlocks to, and I quote, 'enjoy the long fall back to Earth where you belong'. And there have been botched attempts to stage uprisings, widespread sabotage and civil disobedience, reports of protesters being imprisoned and even executed without trial... It's almost like each side is trying to outdo the other with each successive atrocity. And of course there's the usual rumblings of Neo Zeon sympathisers at Side 3 and elsewhere, taking advantage of the chaos."

Kozume hummed thoughtfully. "I'd like to go over whatever data you have."

Akaashi blinked, staring down at him. "I'm sure that can be arranged, but to what end exactly?"

Kozume shuffled awkwardly, glancing over to where Kuroo stood; he and Bokuto had joined the senior officers in conversation.

"Kozume?" Chikara prompted.

"Just a pet project I'm working on, that's all," Kozume said.

Akaashi didn't seem convinced, but he didn't push it. "In any case, our first order of business is to get the _Karasuno_ resupplied. If you let me know what equipment your mobile suit teams require, I can make a start on getting it transferred over."

"Yes, of course," Chikara said, grateful to be back on familiar ground. "I've already prepared a list, and I'm sure Kozume has something similar."

"Then let's make a start," Akaashi said.

 

* * *

 

The arrival of the _Fukurodani_ was like an injection of new blood, reinvigorating everyone aboard the _Karasuno_ and offering a slender thread of hope that they might, one day, all get out of this mess alive.

Assuming, of course, that Kei didn't go on a murderous rampage and kill them all first.

He still couldn't quite believe he'd let Tadashi talk him into joining the other pilots at Johzenji's bar. He thought he'd learnt his lesson after the karaoke incident back on Miyagi. But there he was, wedged between Tadashi and Kuroo, with a squeezy bottle of disgusting 40 year old beer in his hand.

Loath as he was to admit it, the pirates had done a decent job of sprucing the place up. Although it was really just a few modular units welded together, they'd broken up the boxy shape with some hanging fabric, added all manner of weird decorations — including what looked like a cow skull, a giant battleaxe, and three large pictures of 18th century sailing ships — and painted the whole place in a riot of mismatched colour. Add in some bass-heavy background music and moody lighting provided by rewired lamps that almost certainly would not pass a safety inspection, and Kei could safely claim that it was probably one of the more interesting bars he'd been in. It had a sort of subversive, conspiratorial atmosphere, like they were in a secret speakeasy during an age of prohibition. Which in a way they were, as a gang of fugitives and pirates hiding from the law.

And most importantly, there was no karaoke.

So it wasn't the bar that was giving rise to his homicidal impulses; it was the company.

"You see, it's all about seizing the moment," Bokuto declared. He had moved past tipsy and was approaching hyperactive, and his wild gesticulations had already smacked Kuroo in the face twice; Akaashi on the other hand seemed to possess some precognitive talent for dodging just in time. Bokuto clenched his fist to emphasise his words, closing his fingers on thin air. "Catch that moment, savour it, and you'll be invincible!"

"What's he talking about?" Tadashi whispered into Kei's ear; despite his confusion, he appeared deeply impressed by Bokuto's fervour.

"Maybe we should ask his translator," Kei said, not bothering to keep his voice down.

Kuroo heard him and laughed, a grating braying sound. "Akaashi, care to translate?"

Akaashi had said very little, but in contrast to Kei's discomfort he seemed to be enjoying himself. "I think Bokuto's wisdom speaks for itself, does it not?" he replied. His expression remained totally neutral, but his eyes twinkled as he glanced at Kei.

So much for counting on him as one of the few sane members of the group.

Bokuto was gazing around at them blearily, probably wondering why they weren't applauding. "The moment!" he repeated meaningfully. He did the grasping gesture again, this time with both hands, which succeeded only in making it look rather lewd.

Kei sighed. He should have excused himself when Kozume disappeared; that guy was like a canary, warning of approaching idiocy.

Tadashi, bless his soul, took pity on Bokuto. "Um, what moment?" he asked timidly.

Bokuto turned his huge, wide eyes on him. " _The_ moment! The moment of inspiration, of meaning, when everything makes sense! An epinephrine!"

"An epiphany," Kei said in a dull voice. "Though if you have any epinephrine I could use some right about now."

Kuroo snorted again, banging the table with his fist; he'd evidently had too much to drink as well. "I knew this would be a great idea, introducing you lot. Oh, this is going to be _fantastic_."

Kuroo was to blame for this whole mess. He'd somehow cornered Tadashi alone to issue his invitations; Tadashi, who was incapable of saying no to anybody, especially a superior officer, had agreed to bring Kei. Several hours of relentless pestering had then followed until Kei finally gave in. And worst of all, Kei strongly suspected that Kuroo had known exactly what he was doing and had played them both like fiddles.

Apparently, Kei wasn't the only one unhappy with Nekoma's commander; Akaashi also levelled an admonishing stare at him. "You better not be matchmaking again, Kuroo."

"Matchmaking?!" Bokuto yelled, overjoyed by the concept. He leaned towards Kuroo, his wide face full of eager curiosity. "Who?"

Kuroo fondly pushed him back so he had room to breathe. "I'm not matchmaking," he said, smirking. But then he gazed around the table thoughtfully, pausing to study each of them in turn. "Though that does get me thinking."

Okay, time for an emergency change of subject. "Bokuto, have you had _your_ moment?" Kei asked, pointedly ignoring Kuroo's disappointed whine.

The distraction worked, because Bokuto puffed up and nodded. "Yes! Yes! It was three years ago, in the fires of war..." He reached out to wrap an arm around Kuroo's shoulders and pulled him into a hug, though it ended up being more of a headlock. "Me and Kuroo were but rookie pilots, almost as clueless as you guys, fighting an endless horde of Zeon bastards! They just kept coming, one after the next. So Kuroo covered me while I attacked their carrier, swooping past their defences, blasting anyone in my way —" here he added sound effects and mimicked shooting each of them, "— and then I rammed my particle rifle right up the carrier's —"

"Bokuto," Akaashi warned, raising an eyebrow.

With a sheepish grin, Bokuto amended his story. "And then I blew up the carrier singlehanded! I got a medal and a commendation and everything, and it was at that moment that I realised just how awesome it is being a mobile suit pilot and knew I wanted to do it forever."

Kuroo extricated himself from the headlock and gave Bokuto a playful shove. "This guy's a real bone fide ace. He's what, top five in the fleet? Top three even?"

Bokuto preened, bestowing them with an extremely self-satisfied smile. "Top three on a good day, I think!"

"If you want to be top three, we need to work on your situational awareness, your tactics, and your ability to stay calm under pressure," Akaashi said, all delivered in a faintly disapproving monotone. He might as well have popped Bokuto's ego like a balloon, because the ace pilot immediately deflated, sinking into his seat with a frown.

"Akaashi, you know I've trained hard to improve all those things!"

"Self-improvement is not a finite process," Akaashi reminded him. But then he allowed Bokuto a small smile and added, "But you have been working hard."

Kuroo waggled his eyebrows at Kei. "Told you!" he said. "Fun."

"You and I have very different definitions of that word," Kei told him flatly. Kuroo pulled a face and mimicked him in a childish voice before gulping down some more beer.

Akaashi, on the other hand, was more amused; he was almost smiling. "So what is _your_ idea of fun, Tsukishima?" he asked.

"Oh!" Tadashi said, leaning forwards eagerly. "Tsukki likes books on —"

Several people then spoke at once.

"Tadashi!" Kei complained. "I don't need you to speak for me."

" _Tsukki_?!" Bokuto crowed, delighted. "I love that!"

"Books, huh?" Kuroo said, smirking. "I would never have guessed."

"Sorry Tsukki!" Tadashi said, wincing.

Akaashi was definitely smiling now. He fixed Kei with piercing eyes. "Do you also enjoy piloting?"

Kuroo stilled, watching closely, and Kei felt like a spotlight had suddenly picked him out from the crowd. "I don't dislike it," he said. "It's a job, that's all." With a raised eyebrow at Bokuto, he added, "I don't think killing others — even for the greater good — is cause for celebration. It's merely a necessary act, a messy task that somebody has to do."

"Hey, it's not like I enjoy killing!" Bokuto protested. "It's the challenge, the thrill of it, you know? The stakes!" He clutched at the air again. "Proving to yourself what you're made of!"

"A strange mindset for a combat pilot to have, Tsukishima," Akaashi commented, delivered in the same tone of polite interest he always used. "What made you decide to join the military?"

Tadashi sucked in an alarmed breath beside him and Kuroo was practically vibrating with excitement, but Bokuto saved him from having to reply.

"Akaashi, I'm not a bad person, am I?" he said, almost distraught. "Am I going to hell?"

"You are not a bad person, Bokuto, though you could stand to be less messy and more punctual. I am not a moral philosopher but I think you can take comfort in knowing you have saved more lives than you've taken."

Bokuto nodded slowly, considering this. "I guess it doesn't count as much if they're bad guys, right? Especially bad guys who want to gas colonies or drop asteroids on Earth." Then the pensive expression vanished and he stared at Kei. "Is that why? You want to be a hero and save people? Because that's why I joined up."

There was a long, awkward pause during which Kei considered his options. Unfortunately, cutting his way out through the metal bulkhead behind him with a blowtorch was probably not a viable solution, both because it was vacuum on the other side and he had no blowtorch. He could try fleeing, but he didn't think he could outrun the others, and he didn't have any flashbangs on him to serve as a distraction. Which left faking a heart attack or starting a bar fight as his best options.

"Tsukki..." Tadashi said, part sympathy, part warning, and part encouragement; Tadashi had a considerable repertoire of "Tsukkis", varying by tone, inflection, volume, and duration, and it was amazing how much meaning he could pack into such a stupid nickname. There were times when Kei wondered if they could hold an entire conversation using only each other's names.

As Tadashi no doubt intended, it worked to stem his growing panic and calm his nerves. Instead of fleeing or seeing how many of them he could temporarily blind by spraying them with 40 year old beer, he sighed. "I joined because of my brother," he admitted: the honest truth, if only a small part of it.

"Oh! Is he a great pilot too?" Bokuto asked eagerly. "Do I know him?"

Kei frowned, trying to figure out how he was supposed to answer that. "I don't know. Have you met any other Tsukishimas?"

"No, not that I can remember," Bokuto said, glancing at Akaashi as if for confirmation. Akaashi shook his head.

"Then that probably answers your question," Kei said.

Kuroo looked very much like a cat that had just caught a mouse. "Sibling rivalry?" he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial. "Family tradition? Jealousy? Or a bet?" His face fell a little. "Revenge?"

A pressure was building up inside Kei; his chest felt like a steam boiler ready to burst. What was this, an interrogation?! He was _this_ close to marching out without another word, propriety be damned.

"No comment," he ground out.

"Aww, come on Tsukki," Kuroo said, pressing his hand to his heart. "You can tell me — I can keep a secret. I'm a good person too, you know." All four of the other people at the table fixed him with identical stares of disbelief. "Hey, what are you all looking at me like that for? I am! Just ask Kenma!"

"Who is conveniently absent," Akaashi said, sipping some beer. "The court rules your evidence inadmissible." He turned to Kei and Tadashi. "What is the verdict of the jury?"

Tadashi giggled nervously, glancing back and forth as he tried to decide how daring he could be. "Um, innocent?" he ventured.

"Guilty," Kei said without hesitation.

"Wait," Bokuto said, raising a hand, "what's he guilty of again?"

"Being a bad person," Akaashi said. He would make a great judge — dispassionate, logical, and cruelly honest. "Kuroo, would you like to make a statement in your defence?"

Kuroo was more or less sulking now. "How am I the one suddenly on trial? We were talking about Tsukki!"

"Tsukishima," Kei corrected wearily. But mindful of everything Kuroo had done for them, he sighed. "Alright, I'll change my verdict. The jury finds you innocent of being a bad person. But not of being a meddling gadfly."

Kuroo tilted his head, considering. "I'll take it." He smiled at Kei, a more open and honest expression than his usual smirks. "What made you change your mind?"

He shrugged. "You stuck by us, after Miyagi. Helped hold things together when everything was crumbling around us."

There had never been an occasion where he'd seen Kuroo lost for words — until that moment. "Oh," was all he could manage, his jaw hanging open in surprise.

"Aww!" Bokuto said, nudging him. "See? You've got fans too! Not as many as me, obviously, but it's better than none."

"Where exactly would he have gone?" Akaashi pointed out. "It's not as though he could run off and leave you all behind."

Kuroo ran a hand through his hair; it popped back up after the passage of his fingers like it was mounted on a spring. "In my darkest moments, the thought did cross my mind," he confessed, "but Akaashi's right. I had the rest of the Nekoma survivors to take care of, and even if we had somewhere else to go, we couldn't leave you to deal with everything alone."

"You could always join us!" Bokuto said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We'd be happy to have Nekoma."

"Nah," Kuroo said, though he smiled fondly. "Thanks for the offer, but Karasuno and Nekoma are in this together now, until the end."

"And Fukurodani as well!" Bokuto said, extending his hand over the table, palm down. When nobody moved, he wiggled it and said, "Come on! Isn't this the time when we all put out hands on top of each other and say our motto?"

"We have a motto now?" Akaashi asked, but he indulged Bokuto and placed his hand on top. Kuroo followed, then Tadashi, and — only in the face of their collective anticipation — Kei added his own to the top.

"Seize the moment!" Bokuto said reverently, before withdrawing his hand.

"Apparently that's our motto now, Akaashi," Kuroo said. "Could be worse."

"It's basically just _carpe diem_ ," Kei said. "Not very original."

Bokuto frowned. "What does it have to do with fish?"

"It's Latin!" Tadashi chirped. "It means seize the day!" He look to Kei for confirmation. "Right, Tsukki?"

"Yes."

"Although," Akaashi said, "I believe the original meaning was more subtle: take action today so as not to leave the future to chance. Which I believe is pertinent to our present predicament, no?"

Kuroo laughed. "Tsukki's met his match, it seems. But both can be correct, can't they? We can enjoy the moment for what it is and also work towards the future."

Bokuto nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes. We should do some super special training together!" He looked around the table, pointing at each of them. "We've got everyone we need here to fill every role, even if Kuroo has two."

"Really?" Tadashi asked, breathless with excitement. "You mean just the five of us?"

"Why not?" Bokuto said. "It'll be fun!"

Akaashi cleared his throat. "We might not have much time," he said. "I'm not sure what the plan is yet, but I doubt we'll be staying here together indefinitely."

"So we seize the moment, Akaashi!" Bokuto said, grinning at him. He drained the rest of his drink and stood up, wobbling slightly.

"Wait, _now_?" Kei asked incredulously. "Also, you're drunk!"

Kuroo must have clung to some vestige of common sense because he gave Bokuto a mournful smile and tugged him back down into his seat by the sleeve. "He has a point. But I don't think the _Fukurodani_ will be leaving just yet; by now Captain Ukai will have set Takeda on your captain, trying to recruit him to our quest, and Takeda is nothing if not persistent. So let's finish our drinks and leave the training for tomorrow instead."

Bokuto's eyes lit up. "You have a _quest_?" The way he said it was almost reverent.

Akaashi, on the other hand, was less impressed. "We risked a lot to even come here and resupply you."

"Which means you believed us about Miyagi: that we were trying to save it, not attack it," Kuroo said. He took a long sip from his bottle, peering at Akaashi over the rim. "So aren't you curious who really was behind it? Who the real 'Butchers of Miyagi' are? Don't you want justice for all those —"

"Akaashi! You know we have to help them," Bokuto interrupted, turning on his deputy with an intensity that shocked Kei. All that manic, childish energy had transformed into a terrifying focus; even Akaashi reared back, surprised.

"Bokuto —"

"It's the _right thing to do_ , Akaashi."

Kei exchanged a wide-eyed look of surprise with Tadashi. Then Kuroo nudged him under the table with his foot and winked.

"Very well, Bokuto," Akaashi said. He slumped in his seat, defeated, but there was a smile on his face. "If you think this is our best course of action, I will of course do everything I can to help persuade Captain Yamiji."

"I knew Fukurodani wouldn't abandon us in our hour of need," Kuroo said, clapping a hand on Bokuto's shoulder and grinning.

"But if we're to help, we'll need to be well rested," Akaashi said, his tone brooking no argument. "We should turn in so we can get an early start."

Kei grasped this chance to escape immediately. "That's right," he agreed, already standing. "If you're to seize the moment, you need to be prepared."

Kuroo rolled his eyes, huffing with disbelief, but Tadashi dutifully added his agreement and that seemed to be enough to convince Bokuto.

After riding the lift back to the central access corridor, they headed back towards the wharf where the ships were docked. Although there was no gravity in the centre, there were plenty of railings and metal surfaces to anchor onto... for sober people, at least. Bokuto insisted on attempting to fly down the passageway like an inebriated bird of prey, pursued by a weary Akaashi; Tadashi followed too, laughing at their antics. Kuroo on the other hand hung back with Kei.

"They're good people, I promise," he said quietly as they made their way more carefully along the railings. "Give them a chance."

"I'm not foolish enough to turn down aid when it's so sorely needed," Kei replied. "Although Bokuto is not what I'd expect from a top five pilot and a senior mobile suit commander."

"Don't let his playful exuberance fool you: once he's behind the controls of a mobile suit, he's not someone you want to trifle with," Kuroo said. "He's got astonishing instincts for combat and has a knack for inspiring his pilots, even if he relies on Akaashi to manage the tactics."

Kei was reminded of the way Hinata and Kageyama seemed to balance each other out; perhaps they'd end up in a similar situation one day, assuming one of them didn't murder the other first.

"I'm sorry if I was prying earlier, by the way," Kuroo added after a moment. "I didn't realise your brother was such a sensitive subject."

"He's not dead or anything," Kei told him, adding a disapproving stare for good measure; if Kuroo didn't mean to pry, he wouldn't have brought it up again. With a sigh, he decided it was best to offer up a small sacrifice to head off any further questioning. "He used to be a mobile suit pilot too. Now he works as a shuttle pilot at Von Braun. That's all."

"Ah," Kuroo said, carefully neutral. "Okay."

It was strange how different people could experience the same events so differently. Bokuto had come out of the last war full of enthusiasm and purpose; Akiteru just the opposite. Was that down to personality? Strength of character? Like the way some materials were strengthened by heat and pressure, whereas others cracked. But perhaps more data was required before a conclusion could be reached.

"Have you had a 'moment'?" Kei asked reluctantly.

"A life-defining one, you mean?" Kuroo said, chuckling. He glanced over his shoulder at Kei. "Probably several. None like Bokuto's, though."

"How so?"

"Mine were all about responsibility," Kuroo sighed. "Like after Miyagi."

Kei wondered what it said about himself that he could go through such major upheavals and not experience something similar. Tadashi had certainly changed after the battle, pushing himself much harder and starting to forge his own path; Kuroo had evidently been struck by the realisation that he was now responsible for the hundred or so survivors of the _Nekoma_. But Kei's own outlook on life remained stubbornly bleak.

"Has Akaashi, do you know?" he asked.

Kuroo hummed knowingly. "You'll have to ask him."

By then they'd reached the wharf, still decked out with its welcome banners and littered with a few stray streamers and some discarded flyers. Despite his earlier frustrations, as they bid the two Fukurodani pilots farewell and went their separate ways, Kei had to admit that it was nice to have some more friendly faces around, no matter how strange they were. And a modern assault carrier full of mobile suits and trained naval personnel was a much more reassuring ally than a dozen gung-ho pirates in a battered old transport.

"I liked them," Tadashi remarked while the _Karasuno_ 's airlock cycled. "Do you think the _Fukurodani_ will agree to help us?"

"Oh, they will," Kuroo said knowingly. "And not only because of Bokuto's determination. Because this isn't just about trying to clear our names — whoever framed us for Miyagi might have been responsible for starting the entire civil war. That's not something Captain Yamiji will be able to ignore."

"Unless he thinks that siding with us will put his ship and his crew at even greater risk," Kei pointed out. "If word gets out that they're working with us, they'll soon find themselves with a bounty of their own."

The smile that Kuroo gave him was a new one: not smug, not wicked, not even amused; instead it was almost... serene.

"Have a little faith, Tsukki," he said. "We're not alone anymore."

 


	24. Goal

Yuuji watched with arms folded as Futamata lined up his next shot, one eye closed and tongue between his teeth as he concentrated. "You do realise how ridiculous you look, right?"

"If you're trying to distract me, it won't work," Futamata said, but when he threw the dart, it landed smack in the middle of Char Aznable's face — 5 points. "Dammit, Teru!"

Laughing, Yuuji cleared the darts from the dartboard and nudged Futamata out of the way to take his own turn.

It had been Kuribayashi's idea to set up a dartboard in the bar, although Futamata — with his warped sense of humour — had been the one to suggest decorating it with faces of famous war criminals. The more innocent people they'd killed, the higher the points. Char wasn't the only mass murderer now pitted with holes; there was a fair selection of others, spanning both Zeon and Federation leaders. Gihren Zabi's austere face occupied the bullseye, which in hindsight was a mistake as it meant the most hated man in Earth sphere history was hardest to impale with a dart.

In any case, the customers had appreciated it, although the dartboard had been moved to a quiet corner after one too many darts went drunkenly astray. Yuuji and his friends enjoyed it too. It made a great drinking game and it helped pass time during quiet periods.

Yuuji found he had the best luck when he didn't aim for too long, so he threw almost as soon as he'd raised the dart. It landed straight in the throat of Bask Om, Titans leader and big fan of poison gas attacks: 8 points. He'd been aiming for Haman Karn but it would do.

"Oi, Long John Silver, can I get some service here?" one of the few patrons cried, thumping the bar for good measure. It was that quiet time right before the shifts on the warships changed over, so there were only half a dozen customers present right then. Four of them were laughing and joking as they watched a sports match on a datapad while the two others, both technicians from the _Fukurodani_ , appeared to be drinking away their sorrows. This guy was one of the latter and he'd already had one too many.

"Gimme a minute," Yuuji called back without looking.

"I can go," Futamata suggested, but Yuuji shook his head and raised his next dart.

"I need you to witness my victory," he said, smirking. To his delight, it hit Haman Karn right in the eye. "Hah, suck on that, Karn! That'll teach you to drop colonies on Ireland." 10 more points — he was well in the lead now.

One last dart. Readying it, he focused on Gihren Zabi in the middle — and then yelped as something bounced off the back of his head. Looking down, he saw an empty bottle, apparently thrown by the drunken fuckface at the bar. The man sniggered, grinning like he'd just hit the bullseye himself.

"Oops," he said. "My hand slipped."

Yuuji's final dart hit him in the forehead, quivering for a second before the guy's shocked flailing dislodged it. "That's _got_ to be 100 points, right, Futamata?" he said as he closed the distance, gripped a fistful of tunic, and hauled the bastard right off his feet. Low gravity was good like that. "As for you, you're barred. Get out." After punching him in the face for good measure, Yuuji turned and threw the guy over his shoulder, sending chairs flying as he crashed into them with a clatter.

The idiot's friend came to his rescue, but Futamata was ready for her; an outstretched foot and a shove for good measure sent her to the deck too. "You're barred too," he said cheerfully. "Thanks for coming to the Party Hole, please don't come again."

The other four Feds were Karasuno and Nekoma types, and they'd turned from their sports game to watch the live action show instead. One laughed, but the others all looked unsure whether or not to intervene.

"You all know the rules," Yuuji said, giving them a stern glance and hoping to avoid a six-on-two brawl. The original guy was staggering to his feet, blood streaming from his face, but when Yuuji drew his pistol, he froze. "No credit, don't throw up on the floors, and don't throw shit at the bar staff." Jerking the pistol towards the hatch, he gave the two Fukurodani crew a toothy grin. "Out."

"Neo Zeon scum," the drunk snarled, spitting a mouthful of blood and saliva onto the nearest table, before turning tail with his friend and heading out the hatch.

Yuuji waited a minute in case they decided to come back, during which the other customers quietly returned to their sports game, and then holstered his pistol with a sigh. "Dickheads," he muttered.

Futamata handed him the stray dart and went to wipe down the table. "That counts as a miss by the way," he said.

"I nailed the guy in the face from the far side of the bar. How was that a miss?"

Pausing momentarily, Futamata considered that. "Alright. I'll give you one point for a style bonus. But it didn't hit the dartboard."

"Tch. Whatever. I was winning anyway."

It had been a lot of fun running his own bar. Lucrative, too, since he had a monopoly over several hundred bored, thirsty spacers with nowhere else to spend their money. At first he thought the Feds might object, even though he'd been the one to find the bar and the crates of booze in the storage room, but nobody had come to shut him down. Not that everyone had been happy about it; there had been plenty of grumbling and dark looks, and those weren't the first muppets he'd had to throw out.

Although in his eyes that was all part of the charm. What was a bar without the occasional bar fight? And his team had taken to their new roles with gusto — a little _too_ much gusto in Bobata's case; Yuuji had scolded him for sampling the merchandise too often. But they'd all joined in, first decorating the place to something more fitting and then taking shifts as bartenders or bouncers. Together they'd been able to keep the 'Party Hole' open 24 hours a day, raking in a decent pile of cash in the process. They'd also learnt a lot — alcohol loosened tongues and Yuuji had heard all sorts of juicy gossip.

But the old miners' supply was running dry. A lot of it had obviously been brewed or distilled locally; all the kit was in one of the storage rooms just along the habitat ring from the bar. It had probably been simpler (and cheaper) for the miners to ship in a few compact ingredients and use the mains water supply to make their own moonshine than to import ready-made stuff, although it definitely would have tasted better. But even if any of Teru's team knew how to brew beer or distill liquor, it would probably take too long to replenish their stock and he didn't expect they'd be staying all that long now that the _Fukurodani_ had finally arrived.

After shaking his shoulders to loosen the lingering tension there, Yuuji casually threw the final dart at the dartboard (which landed in Admiral Delaz's beard) and headed back to take up his post at the bar.

"Do you think we could open a whole chain of bars?" Futamata said, coming to perch on a stool on the other side of the counter. He was on clean-up and bouncer duty; they usually had two people on duty at once to cope with rush hours and any other problems (like belligerent drunks).

Yuuji's eyes widened. "What, for real?"

"Yeah, why not?" Futamata said, staring at the quartet of customers in the corner. "We're making good money, right?"

"But it's not like this is a typical bar," Yuuji admitted, looking around. He scratched the back of his head, a puzzled frown on his face. "And I mean, it's been interesting, but it's not as fun as flying mobile suits, right? I wouldn't want to be stuck wiping up spilt beer and dealing with arseholes all day."

Futamata sighed and planted his elbows on the counter. "Yeah, I guess."

In truth, he hadn't given much thought to what they might do next. Planning ahead wasn't really his thing; he usually left that sort of stuff to Misaki. When he dwelt on it at all, he figured they'd move on when the bar ran dry and the warships left and either return to the Shoal Zone or set up as pirates somewhere else. The Thunderbolt Sector, maybe; all that random electrical discharge from all the debris would make a cool backdrop.

The idea of actually becoming a bartender for real hadn't once crossed his mind.

"Hey, Futamata, are you really serious?" he asked. "You like doing this that much?"

"Nah, probably not," Futamata said, shrugging. "Though Tsuchiyu said it was better than being shot at. And Higashiyama was looking up cocktail recipes yesterday. And I think Kuribayashi is close to figuring out how the distillery works."

Yuuji rocked back on his heels, astonished. Nobody had said any of that stuff to him. Apart from Bobata whining when Yuuji threatened to start charging him for drinks and general grumbles about cleaning duty, everyone seemed enthusiastic, sure — but not to the extent of taking it that seriously.

But then when was the last time he'd ever actually _asked_ any of them about what they wanted to do? For that matter, when was the last time any of them had ever thought they might have a choice? They'd spent so long camping out in the Shoal Zone, hiding from the authorities and stealing what they needed to survive, that the idea of doing anything so... _normal_ probably hadn't even occurred to them. It simply hadn't been an option.

Stomach churning guiltily, Yuuji tapped his fingers on the counter, thinking. Had Misaki come up with a plan? What _should_ they do next?

Before he could second guess himself, he grabbed one of the last bottles of decent booze — some strong-smelling spirit that tasted vaguely like liquorice — and circled around the counter towards the exit. "Hey, cover for me, will ya?" he said to Futamata. "Our shift's nearly up anyway."

"Sure," Futamata said, surprised. "Where're you going?"

"I need to talk to Misaki."

As he made his way back towards the ship, riding the lift up to the central corridor and passing through the loading wharf, he tried to remember what their supply situation was like. Misaki had probably told him at some point but as usual he hadn't been paying much attention. He did remember that she'd bargained for some supplies from the _Karasuno_ — least they could do after Johzenji pulled their tenders out of the fire in the Shoal Zone — but that freighter they'd fought with Nohebi over had been their first score in a while and they'd been running low.

Luckily, Misaki was still up; she was curled up in the captain's chair on the bridge, reading something on her datapad. She often liked to hide out there rather than the main living quarters when she wanted some peace and quiet.

"Hey," he said, knocking on the hatchway to announce his presence; she was so engrossed that she hadn't noticed him yet. "Got a minute?"

"Sure," she said, eyebrows raised. "What's up, Teru?"

Looking around the bridge, he sealed the hatch behind him and went to sit at the helmsman's station, spinning the seat around to face her. "Here," he said, tossing her the bottle. "Present for you,"

"I always get suspicious when you try to bribe me," Misaki said, catching it. "What have you done this time?" She narrowed her eyes. "You didn't shoot anyone, did you?"

Did throwing a dart at someone count? Probably not. "I didn't do anything," he protested, holding up his hands in surrender. "Bar's fine. Futamata's covering for me, but Bobata and Iizaka should be there any time now to help cover the rush when the Feddies' shifts change."

Of all of them, Misaki had been least involved in the bar. She'd joined in with the redecorating — using the paintings of sailing ships were her idea, to give it a 'naval theme' — and she'd helped set the prices, but since then she'd been busy with other stuff. Now Yuuji wondered exactly what she'd been so busy with.

"Okay, but I don't want to have to deal with any more complaints from Takeda," she said, unscrewing the bottle cap and taking a cautious sip. Instantly she winced, her eyes watering. "People actually buy this stuff? The Feds must be more desperate than I thought."

Yuuji shrugged. "It's the only booze for sale. And you do get used to the taste. Eventually."

After taking another experimental swig, Misaki shuddered like she'd swallowed an eel and quickly fastened the cap again, tossing it back over to him. "Once it melts your taste buds, presumably," she said. "No thanks."

Laughing, he gulped down some himself and smacked his lips. "You shouldn't be wasting it, Misaki," he said. "We're nearly out of stock. But I think we turned a nice profit!"

"Which would be great if we could just fly over to the nearest shopping mall and spend it," Misaki said, sighing down at her datapad. "Anyway, never mind that. What did you need?"

"Actually," he said hesitantly, "that's pretty much exactly what I wanted to ask you about. What's our next move?"

She grinned at him. "What, don't want to be a bartender forever? I thought you were all enjoying living out your dreams of running a frontier saloon."

He flipped the bottle into the air, catching it deftly as it spun; he'd been practising so he could show off in front of customers and hardly dropped them any more. "Apparently everyone else is," he said, trying not to sound disappointed. "But we'll be out of stock in a day or two."

"They do seem happy," she mused, tilting her head back. "I figured they'd be sad to leave our base back in the Shoal Zone but I think this has been good for them." She glanced at him thoughtfully. "So if not a bartender, what _would_ be your dream job?"

"Already got it — I like being a pirate king," he said, grinning at her. "Best job in the world."

"Figures," she said, smiling fondly. "But don't you think about it at all? What you might have become, if our lives had been different?"

He tilted his head, considering. "Why waste time dwelling on what might have been? Better to make the most of what we've got."

Misaki raised her eyebrows, blinking in astonishment. She sat up straight in the captain's chair and said, "Every now and then, Teru, you surprise me."

"In a good way?" he asked, smiling hopefully.

"Hmm. Maybe fifty-fifty."

"I'll take it." Yuuji clenched his fist victoriously and took another swig from the bottle. "Seriously though, what's the plan? We can't stay here forever."

Misaki didn't reply at first. She'd gone back to studying her datapad. "Honestly, I... I don't know," she admitted quietly. "I don't think we can go back to the Shoal Zone. Word is that there's still Loyalist warships on patrol there."

Yuuji had heard the same thing. "So we'll just go somewhere else. I was thinking the Thunderbolt Sector would be cool — all that lightning and radiation and such."

Ordinarily, she'd huff and roll her eyes, but now she kept avoiding his gaze. "Actually... I've been meaning to talk to you too," she said. "About a different option."

That sounded... ominous. "Oh?"

"There's a big meeting soon. All the bigwigs from the _Karasuno_ and the _Fukurodani_."

"Yeah, all the Feds are talking about it," he agreed, tossing the bottle again. "So what?"

She gave him a flat look. "And there goes wise Teru. _So_ , I was thinking of asking Takeda if we could go along too."

Now _that_ surprised him. "What? Why?!" he said, fumbling his catch; the bottle slipped from his grasp and bounced off the ceiling. He had to quickly stand to grab it out of the air. "And why would they even agree? It's not like we're popular around here. I've lost count of the number of names I've been called over the past few days."

After working together in the Shoal Zone — not to mention helping the Feddie carrier escape — and spending the past week or so at the Bolthole with them, most of the _Karasuno_ folks had accepted Johzenji now. Not all of them, to be sure; the older crewmembers especially, who had likely fought against pirates or Neo Zeon in the past, could be touchy. But on the whole, most of the _Karasuno_ crew had become good customers.

The same could not be said of the _Fukurodani'_ s crew. Things were a lot more tense there, lots of muttering and grumbling and dark looks. Maybe it was just that they hadn't had time to warm up to Johzenji — or maybe they hadn't reached the same level of desperation yet.

But that behaviour wasn't only directed at Johzenji; there was an awkwardness between the crews of the two ships too. From overhearing the chatter in the bar, it was clear that most of the _Fukurodani_ crewmembers remained wary of the _Karasuno_. Even those who believed they were innocent were worried about the risks they were taking to supply the renegade ship, and finding the _Karasuno_ working with a Neo Zeon pirate ship didn't help matters.

So the lack of an invitation to a meeting that probably had nothing to do with them wasn't a big surprise.

"Even I can tell we're close to outstaying our welcome," he added. "And while I'm never one to run from a fight, there's a whole lot more of them than there is of us. Shouldn't we just skedaddle?"

"There's more going on here than we realise," Misaki said quietly. "I've been talking a lot to Takeda and Nekoma's commander, that Kuroo guy, and the things I've been hearing..."

"I've been hearing tons of stuff too," he said. "About Miyagi and conspiracies and saboteurs and the whole civil war business. But what does it have to do with us?" Shrugging, he put his feet up on the helm console. "Getting mixed up with the _Karasuno_ has already forced us to leave our home, Misaki. And now you want to get pulled in deeper into whatever's going on with them?" He laughed, though it was as much confusion as amusement. "Normally _I'm_ the one getting us mixed up in risky business and you're the one trying to stop me."

"I get it, Teru," she said, nodding. "But I've been thinking a lot about the future recently. About what Anabara has been telling us — about finding a _way out_. You know as well as I do that it was just a matter of time before the Feds caught up with us anyway. Sooner or later, a flotilla of warships would have turned up to comb through the Shoal Zone and flush out all the rats that live there. The civil war just brought it forward a bit."

"We're not rats," Yuuji protested. He rapped the console with his fingers, studying her determined expression with unease. Over the years, the two of them had formed a comfortable but unlikely partnership as they led Johzenji together: Misaki was the brains and Yuuji was the brawn. They'd lived moment to moment, from one score to the next. Sometimes they'd get lucky breaks, especially when Anabara had some solid intel for them, and they'd pull in enough loot to keep them going for months; other times they'd have dry periods where they'd had to start rationing and their mobile suits were in danger of falling apart from lack of spare parts.

So with the present always so unpredictable, he'd never given the future much thought. That was always Misaki's arena. She was the one who kept them on track, planning just one step ahead to keep them all alive. She was the voice of reason and caution against his unquenchable desire for excitement, for action... for anything to make their lives halfway bearable.

Having their positions reversed like this was disconcerting to say the least.

"Misaki, are you saying you want to keep helping them?" he said incredulously. "Why?" He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "I mean, they're okay, for Feds. I'll admit I even _like_ a few of them, like Tanaka and Tora. But didn't we already do enough helping them escape from the Shoal Zone?"

She leant back in her chair. "We're at a crossroads, Teru. Both Johzenji and the Earth sphere itself. Wouldn't you rather have a say in which direction we all go? Our parents thought—"

A flash of rage momentarily blinded Yuuji as though lightning had struck behind his eyelids. "Our parents were morons," he snapped. "They thought it was better to go out in a blaze of glory than to find something better to do with their lives. Like look after us, maybe."

Misaki flinched, looking aside and pressing her lips together tightly.

"Sorry," Yuuji said, ruffling the hair on the back of his head in frustration. "Sorry, Misaki. I didn't mean to yell at you. It's just... well, you already know what I think about _destiny_."

There had been a time when he'd believed all that bullshit. He'd been raised into it from birth, basically indoctrinated — how could he not believe it? Where other kids would get told fairy tales to help them fall asleep, Yuuji and the others would hear tales about the 'great visionary', Zeon Zum Deikun, and how humanity was destined to leave Mother Earth and find its fortune amongst the stars. How the Earth Federation shackled spacenoids, holding them back; how the Zabi family valiantly stepped up to lead the nation named for Zeon after his death and fought for their freedom; how even though they'd lost the One Year War, they just had to wait because their cause was just and right and the moment would come to strike back at Earth one day.

The day had come, sure enough. All it had achieved was to create another batch of orphans.

After that, he'd realised that if he was to get anywhere in life he had to put himself first. Himself and his friends, at least. Better to live one day to the next, doing whatever _they_ wanted, loyal only to themselves and not to some poisonous ideology that only ever took and took and took and gave nothing back.

Fuck destiny.

"Why can't we just go do our own thing?" he said. "I dunno, become mercenaries maybe? Or go back to being pirates if we have to." He crossed his arms and frowned at her. "I don't understand why you want to get involved. Even assuming they'd let us, what's in it for us?"

The _Karasuno_ would probably be grateful for the help, since they were so desperate, but Yuuji didn't put much stock in favours. He'd spent too long scavenging and stealing to value anything that intangible. If he couldn't hold it in his hands, eat it, or drink it, then it was pretty much worthless. And the _Fukurodani_ probably wouldn't even be that generous. They'd paid for their drinks, grudgingly, but he doubted they'd be willing to offer anything more than that.

Besides, what help could Johzenji realistically offer? To get themselves killed in someone else's war? Been there, done that, got the postcard. Wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Misaki sighed. "If you really think it's a bad idea, I won't push it. We can try to make it on our own. But there is a war on, you know? The job market isn't exactly great right now and we already know that martial law is putting the brakes on trade and commerce. Anabara is having to keep his head down too so he's probably not going to be able to help unless it's really important."

Takaaki Anabara had been their ace in the hole for years, ever since their parents had staged their futile attack on a Feddie base. The only reason Anabara hadn't been killed too was because he was too valuable to risk in a battle: he was their man on the inside, a Neo Zeon spy embedded deep in the EFSF. Actually, none of Johzenji were quite sure exactly what he did; it was safer that way. All they knew was that Anabara would pass along useful intelligence, like juicy transports passing by or news of impending anti-pirate raids.

Then he figured it out: Misaki's game plan. "Oh," he said, rocking backwards on his chair. "That's what you want to offer them: information. To buy us a seat at the table."

"That's part of it," she agreed, giving him a sly grin. "It's been a while, but we still have contacts in Neo Zeon."

"Okay, well that explains what _they're_ getting out of it. What would we get?" he said, narrowing his eyes. Misaki was crafty; she had to have something big in mind. Not money — their reluctant allies weren't exactly flush with cash — but maybe some gear? Maybe even some of those fancy new mobile suits they used...?

Misaki leaned forwards, elbows on her knees. "I can practically see dollar signs flashing behind your eyes, Teru," she said wryly, "but it's about more than that. I know how you feel about politics and I know you hate thinking about the future, but the truth is that we can't live like this forever. And funnily enough, it was the _Karasuno_ that made me realise it."

"Huh?"

She stared at him intently as she spoke, a level of focus that made him jittery and nervous, like he was on trial somehow. "Right now, they're fugitives. Virtually everybody hates them. Even their closest allies are suspicious of them. The only way they'll ever see their friends and family — the only way they'll be able to _start_ families, live normal lives, in peace — is if they can get to the bottom of what happened and prove they're innocent."

Yuuji tapped the console again, interrupting her. "Misaki, don't forget: even if they're innocent, we're not."

"But that's my point, Teru: the road we're on is a dead end," she said, an edge of desperation in her voice. "I can't see any way it'll end well for any of us. Especially not if the Junta wins. You think they'll just forgive and forget? I don't want to end up like our parents, stuck fighting for a lost cause. I want to break the cycle."

"At least we're free," he protested. "We do whatever we want, whenever we want! Nobody tells us what to do and we don't have to spend every day slaving away in a factory or an office or whatever else normal _boring_ people do."

Misaki sighed and let her head drop. "But is that what the others want?"

The question cut through him like a sawblade, making his breath catch and his limbs tremble. He thought back to what Futamata had been saying earlier. He'd always taken it for granted that the others were happy to follow his lead, to do what they'd done for years. Sure, there was some idle grumbling, or daft daydreams, but nobody had ever seriously complained.

"If they feel differently, why don't they say anything to me about it?" he said defensively, crossing his arms. "It's not my fault. I can't do anything about it if nobody ever tells me there's something wrong."

With a sad smile, Misaki shook her head. "They all look up to you, Teru," she said. "Even I do at times. Nobody wants to let you down, to be the weak link. And if you insisted on it, I'm sure we'd all follow you into hell. But you know as well as I do where that leads."

Now he really _did_ feel sick. Was he just like those all faces on the dartboard? Leading his people into ruin because he thought he knew best? He leant back, burying his head in his hands and groaning with frustration. "But what can we do, Misaki?" he begged. "We're pirates. Ex-pirates, whatever. Like you said, nobody's going to just forgive and forget."

"Yet here we are, hiding out on an asteroid with two naval warships." Misaki came closer and gently tugged his hands away from his face; she smiled at him, warm and kind and reassuring. "And if we help them — if we _win_ — maybe they really will forgive us. It's a gamble, I know, but we're used to those, right? It's not like we've got much more to lose... but there's an awful lot we could gain. Maybe we could even get official pardons. Then we really _would_ be free — free of fear, free to live whatever lives we wanted."

Yuuji closed his eyes, savouring her touch on his skin, and sighed. "I guess you want me to talk to the others?"

"No," she said, letting go of his hands, but when he opened his eyes again she was still smiling and so very close. "We _both_ should, together. But only if you really agree, Teru. I don't want to bully you into anything."

If she said the word, he'd do whatever she asked of him, but he kept that thought to himself.

Besides, he'd spent long enough as a villain; being the hero for a change might be fun.

"Alright, I'm in."

 

* * *

 

The _Fukurodani_ , while still a warship, had been designed with an eye for habitability. It made the _Karasuno_ look positively spartan by comparison. It wasn't a luxury liner, of course, but in a thousand small ways it was simply a more comfortable ship. Nowhere was that clearer than in how _spacious_ it was. Aboard any spaceship, especially a warship, space was at a premium: more space meant more mass which meant more powerful engines which meant more fuel and higher cost and a larger crew.

So to have a large room in the gravity section devoted purely to holding meetings — especially decked out as it was like some kind of executive boardroom, complete with viewscreens built into the table and a separate corner for refreshments — was essentially the height of opulence. Keiji had grown used to it, but the reactions of their guests spoke for themselves. Even Captain Ukai was taken aback, glaring at the table with ill-concealed jealousy.

Having poured a cup of black coffee, Keiji blew on it to cool it and then took a sip as he studied the table himself. Personally he would have preferred a less formal setting, like the pilots' briefing room, but he could understand why it had been chosen. This was a planning session, not a briefing, and it was easier to hold discussions and hear suggestions from the participants when everyone could see each other. And there was something symbolic, too, about being seated around a table together; while not precisely circular, the oval table was round enough to bring to mind Arthur's Round Table of Camelot, and the mobile suit pilots present, piloting as they did giant suits of armour, were like the chivalrous knights.

Naturally, Keiji kept all of these thoughts to himself. Had he been tempted to share them with any of his close colleagues, Kozume would probably have ignored him and Bokuto would have undoubtedly become over-excited. Worst would be Kuroo, who would most certainly laugh at his pretensions and call him "Sir Akaashi" for the next few weeks.

"Sorry if we started off on the wrong foot yesterday, by the way."

Keiji turned to see Ennoshita standing at a polite distance, a matching cup of coffee in his hand. He looked tired, though the fact that he didn't look like he'd just rolled out of bed like Kuroo and Bokuto suggested it wasn't because he'd been up all night partying. "I wasn't aware we had."

Ennoshita shifted his weight from foot to foot. "You seemed pretty angry about us working with Johzenji," he said, nodding at where Tanaka was joking around with Johzenji's lead pilot, Yuuji Terushima, while their — leader? organiser? — Hana Misaki stood nearby, arms folded in disapproval.

They did rather spoil his elaborate metaphor. Who would they be? Mordred and Morgana, perhaps?

Only a moment later did he realise he'd spoken aloud. Heat flushed his cheeks and he turned to find Ennoshita's face split by a wide grin. "Um..."

"It's okay, I get it," Ennoshita said, slurping some coffee while looking around the room. "It does look like a round table from this angle." As Captain Yamiji entered — 0900 on the dot, punctual as usual — he added, "And here's our King Arthur. We should probably take our seats."

Flustered though he was, Keiji now couldn't shake the image; after all, aboard the _Fukurodani_ , Captain Yamiji was king, though a benevolent one. And the seat at the head of the table was a little like a throne. Captain Ukai sat opposite, at the other apex of the oval, and the remaining seats were filled mostly by pilots: Kuroo, Kozume, Ennoshita, Tanaka, Bokuto, and of course Keiji himself. Also present were Commander Takeda of the _Karasuno,_ who Kuroo had promised was much more interesting than he appeared, and Lt Commander Shirofuku, the _Fukurodani_ 's tactical officer.

And the two pirates, who had inexplicably gained an invitation. No doubt the explanation would prove fascinating; Keiji had been burning with curiosity ever since they'd arrived, but in response to Bokuto's angry outburst Commander Takeda would only say that the reason would become clear shortly.

Captain Yamiji cleared his throat. "Thank you all for coming," he said. His approach for dealing with the unwanted guests was to studiously ignore them; as he swept his gaze around the table, smiling at each person in turn, he skipped straight over the two pirates. "We've called this meeting today to compare notes on recent events and put our heads together to see if we can figure out any solutions." He gestured to Shirofuku, sitting to his left. "Shirofuku, would you begin with an overview of the military situation?"

Shirofuku straightened in her seat and tapped her datapad, activating the viewscreens built into the tabletop in front of each seat.

  


"As you can see, the Loyalists hold the advantage in both territory and numbers," she said, using a cursor to highlight the occupied areas. "They have three main fleets: one currently trying to take control of Side 4, one based out of Pezun to police the colonies at L4, and one fleet defending their HQ at Luna II. On the other hand, our situation is much more difficult; when martial law was declared, Rebel-aligned units were spread out all over, and much of the Junta's recent effort has gone into hunting them down before they can rendezvous with friendly forces. We've managed to bring just about all of those who remain together at Side 1, but we're outnumbered 3 to 1."

Seeing it all laid out on a map emphasised just how precarious their position really was. But history was full of smaller forces overcoming the odds to win victory. It just meant you had to fight smarter.

"If you're that badly outnumbered, why haven't they just wiped you out already?" Terushima asked casually.

"Because of the risks involved," Keiji told him, adopting the condescending tone of voice a teacher might use to educate the class clown. He pointed at the map. "Look closely — there are other pieces on the board. Even after the losses they took during the Laplace Incident a few months ago, we know Neo Zeon probably have more ships squirrelled away somewhere. Right now, they're massively outnumbered, but if half the EFSF wiped itself out in one big battle, that insignificant force suddenly becomes dangerously significant. And that's not all — a smaller fraction of the navy is trying to stay neutral, centred on Side 6. At present, they're not supporting martial law but they're not willing to fight other Federation forces either. If the Junta does anything too extreme, that might push them into joining us, and then the odds start to look much more even."

Shirofuku cleared her throat meaningfully. "Do you mind?" she said. "I'm supposed to be giving this briefing, not you."

Oops. "My apologies, Lieutenant Commander."

After holding her glare for a few more seconds, she continued. "At the minute, fighting is focused on two locations — the Moon and Side 4. The Junta doesn't have the numbers to fully occupy all of the lunar cities, so they've concentrated on Von Braun and are coercing the rest with patrols and threats. Only Granada is being left alone." Granada was on the dark side of Luna, facing towards the Republic of Zeon at Side 3 and away from Earth; it had a long history of anti-Federation sentiment, so the Junta was no doubt hoping to avoid provoking a response from Zeon. "Side 4 was leaning our way until Miyagi; we skirmished with the Loyalists for a while but we've been forced to pull out for the time being. The colonies themselves aren't going down easily though; a lot of them are resisting Junta occupation, though it's only a matter of time until they're forced to give in."

"A good summary — thank you, Shirofuku. Unfortunately, at present the government-in-exile doesn't have much of a strategy," Captain Yamiji admitted. "They know it would be tough to win militarily, so they've been doing their best to win popular opinion over instead. Which has been problematic, in view of recent events." He nodded over to Commander Takeda. "Commander, would you care to summarise the events at Miyagi?"

Nodding graciously, Takeda began by describing the activities of the agent known as Silhouette on Miyagi. Although Keiji knew the gist, a few details did catch him by surprise — not least the fact that Kozume had voluntarily _spaced himself_ to neutralise one of the bombs. The fact that Silhouette had seemingly blown up a police station and killed his own comrade in an attempt to cover his trail also came as a shock.

By the time Takeda moved on to his theories about Silhouette's origin, Keiji was already processing the horrifying implications. Kuroo's messages had alluded to it, but the idea that other such agents might be active on other colonies to deliberately provoke trouble seemed all too credible in light of Miyagi's fate. To be sure, it was all just a theory, but Takeda was painting a compelling picture. He didn't need to look to know that Bokuto had already been convinced, but he did note that Shirofuku was paying close attention and nodding along; even the two pirates seemed hooked.

"In light of Silhouette's actions, it seems very possible that there has been a concerted effort to cause discontent across the colonies," Takeda said, glancing periodically down at the notes on his datapad. "Moreover, the fact that these activities were so indiscriminate — and appear to have continued even after the declaration of martial law — suggests that the motivation was not merely to serve as a justification for the Junta's takeover."

"Just so we're clear," Misaki said, holding up both hands, "you're saying that some people deliberately started the civil war? It didn't just spiral out from the Laplace scandal?"

"Essentially, yes," Takeda replied. "Though how Laplace fits into it isn't clear; it could be part of the same pattern or maybe it simply served as a convenient trigger."

Misaki paled, obviously shocked. "I mean, Miyagi was bad enough. But to start a civil war... why?"

Takeda shrugged. "Until we have further information, we can only speculate."

Kuroo cleared his throat. "About that..." As all heads swivelled to look at him, he grinned crookedly. "Kenma and I have been undertaking an investigation of our own," he said. "Our resources are limited, of course, but we have been able to uncover a few potential leads." He patted Kozume on the shoulder, who was determinedly staring down at the tabletop as though he hoped that he was invisible as long as he avoided eye contact. "It is our belief that a single party — as yet unidentified — had been funding many of the protests that occurred in the run up to the declaration of martial law, even when those movements were contradictory. That fits with what Silhouette was doing too — he often liked playing both sides against each other. And the only reason I can think of to fund both a march supporting spacenoid independence and another protest supporting a return to Earth for everyone is that they wanted to cause as much political upheaval as possible."

"A reasonable conclusion," Keiji admitted.

"Wait, wait," Ukai said, holding up a hand. "You two have been conducting an investigation? How? Do you have a network of agents I don't know about?" He frowned. "You know, I wouldn't put it past old Nekomata."

Kuroo shook his head. "To the best of my knowledge, the commodore didn't have his own intelligence agency, more's the pity," he said, smiling. "But just because we no longer have a ship doesn't mean you should count out Nekoma. We have some useful skills and contacts of our own."

Keiji studied Kozume with renewed interest. For his part, Kozume was trying his best to pretend he was part of the furniture. Even his breathing was controlled and barely noticeable.

"Okay, well we can discuss the fact you're running some kind of secret operation off my ship without me knowing later," Ukai said, giving him a sharp look. "For now, what else did you find out?"

Kuroo didn't seem bothered by the implied threat. Instead he consulted the datapad on the table in front of him and continued. "We focused on two main leads: financial and material. Of the various organisations that received funding in the run up to martial law, many _continued_ to receive such funding afterwards too, even though public protest is almost impossible under martial law. And they're all across the political spectrum: some are pro-Junta, some aren't, and some are just loonies, like the Down to Earth movement."

"I think I've heard of them," Bokuto said. "Something about believing that humanity belongs only on Earth, not in space, right?"

Kuroo nodded. "Yes, that about sums it up. On the surface, they seem quite harmless — talking about healing the Earth to make it humanity's home once more. But their current campaign basically blames this whole mess on spacenoids, implying that people exposed to space become unstable and dangerous, so to avoid further conflict we should all live together on Earth and hold hands in harmony." Ukai snorted in amusement at that, causing Kuroo to grin; until then he'd been doing an admirable job of keeping a straight face. "Behind the scenes, much of their support base is a lot more extreme: many of them believe that spacenoids and especially Newtypes are basically a different species, and that to prevent corruption or extinction of the 'true' humankind, spacenoids need to be subjugated or even wiped out."

"Charming," Ennoshita said dryly. "But why fund them in particular? Do they have any political leverage or anything like that?"

Checking his datapad again, Kuroo shrugged. "Nothing noteworthy that we've been able to turn up so far. Like many of the others that received funding, they're a fringe group, not a proper political party. The only genuinely serious recipients were a couple of zealous pro-Junta groups obsessed with security and the usual suspects supporting spacenoid independence, most of which also have Neo Zeon backing."

"Could this trace back to Neo Zeon then?" Yamiji asked, eyeing the two pirates suspiciously. They bristled at the implication, and Terushima opened his mouth to object, but he held his tongue when Misaki grabbed his wrist.

"If you think Neo Zeon has enough money to spare that they can give it away to idiots who think spacenoids aren't human, you're just as crazy as those Down to Earth cretins," she said sharply.

Before any arguments could erupt — and both Bokuto and Captain Yamiji looked like prime suspects — Kuroo hurried to continue. "For what it's worth, I tend to agree," he said quickly. "Neo Zeon has always been, uh, 'firm in their beliefs', and funding people who believe the exact opposite doesn't seem like their style. But Neo Zeon isn't as united as it once was, and you have to admit anything that weakens the Federation works to their favour. It's not impossible that some faction of Neo Zeon — or even some unofficial sympathisers — are involved somehow." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Of course, it also benefits the Junta too. They wouldn't have been able to seize power without the pretext of restoring order."

"There must be some pattern, surely?" Keiji asked. "Something these groups have in common."

"Not really," Kuroo said, "but that might be a clue in itself. Our best theory so far is that whoever's choosing these groups is doing so on the basis of their supporters rather than any ideology. The groups that got most funding seem to have the most extremists, which makes sense if your goal is to cause as much chaos as you can."

"That's certainly intriguing," Takeda said. "But you also mentioned a second lead?"

Kuroo nodded again. "The mobile suits that attacked us at Miyagi."

An awkward silence descended on the table. Everyone was familiar with the battle, of course, and most — like Keiji — had no doubt reviewed the recordings. Even though nobody present believed that the _Karasuno_ was to blame, the brutality of the attack and the suspicious nature of the attackers weighed heavily on everyone's minds.

"You know who sent them?" Ukai demanded, his eyes flashing with fury; understandable given that as captain he attracted the lion's share of the blame, even though his grandfather had perished during the slaughter.

"We think we know how to find out," Kuroo corrected. "They used RHQ series suits. Those are new, not easy to get hold of. They're only manufactured by Innovative Combat Systems at two facilities: one in Von Braun on Luna and the other at Side 1. Kenma was able to cross reference historical EFSF deployment data with some production estimates to try to figure out where all the mobile suits ended up."

Takeda raised an eyebrow. "I'd be very interested to hear how you were able to do that."

 _You aren't the only one_ , Keiji thought to himself, glancing at Kozume again.

Kuroo dodged the implied question entirely. "It's mostly guesswork — we don't have any recent deployment data, for obvious reasons, and the production estimates are just that. But even allowing for a margin of error, it looks like a fraction of the production basically disappears. After testing, most mobile suits were sent directly to military units for use by major front-line mobile suit teams, like ours. Some were marked for training use by academies. But that still leaves a significant fraction unaccounted for."

"You think someone's stealing them?" Bokuto asked, alarmed. "How many are we talking about?"

"Hard to say without more accurate information. It could just be a few dozen or it could be hundreds."

Keiji swallowed. "That's a lot of firepower to just vanish into thin air."

"Any theories on where they're going?" Shirofuku asked.

Ennoshita exchanged troubled glances with Tanaka. "Could it be ECOAS?" he said. "They sometimes use mobile suits, and given that they don't officially exist, any resources they use would have to be off the books."

"You mean those special forces freaks?" Terushima blurted out. "I thought they were just a myth."

"They're quite real," Takeda said. "Just very secretive."

In Keiji's opinion, ECOAS — the Earth/Colony/Asteroid Special operations group — was high on the list of possible suspects. Not many organisations had the capability to pull off an operation like this in secret, but ECOAS was one of them. And as a branch of the military, links to the Junta would not be unexpected.

"We did wonder the same thing, Ennoshita," Kuroo said unhappily. "It's something we tried to look into, but ECOAS are like ghosts. It's impossible to prove one way or another without digging up further information."

"Which brings us onto the main topic of conversation," Captain Ukai said. "Our next steps. "

There was a long pause during which everyone looked at everyone else, perhaps hoping someone had an answer. Finally, Commander Takeda cleared this throat and spoke.

"Without denigrating the skills of our mobile suit pilots at all, we're unlikely to be able to have much effect on the military balance of power," he said. "Especially not if the _Karasuno_ continues to be viewed as a renegade ship. So it seems to me as though our best course of action is to continue to investigate who is behind the Miyagi attack. Whether everything is connected or not, by doing so we will not only be able to clear our names but help mend the reputation of the Rebels, too.

"And if our theories are correct and there really is an unknown force is at work, we should be able to convince others to help us find out what's really going on — and to stop any further provocations from prolonging the civil war." He adjusted his glasses, fixing first Kuroo and then Kozume with a hard look. "But thanks to the efforts of our Nekoma colleagues, we have multiple avenues of investigation. It might be wise to split our forces at this point and pursue all of them, rather than gambling everything on a single lead."

"You were military intelligence," Ukai said to him, causing Keiji to raise his eyebrows. "This type of thing is more your field than ours. What do you suggest?"

"I was an analyst, not a spy," Takeda pointed out with a degree of self-deprecating humour. "But we're going to learn little more from an abandoned asteroid mine, unless Kozume has access to yet more sources of information."

Kozume shook his head. "I've learnt what I can from everything I have access to."

Or, Keiji translated mentally, most likely everything he'd been able to _gain_ access to, legally or not. Still, it had been useful information, so it would be churlish to question the providence too far.

"We can't just fly up to a colony in the _Karasuno_ and start asking questions," Ukai said. "So I'm assuming you're talking about infiltration?"

Takeda nodded. "It won't be easy. But if we form small teams, we may be able to insert them unnoticed into key locations to see what we can learn."

"Like where?" Bokuto asked, though Keiji could almost feel the waves of excitement rolling off him.

Kuroo answered first. "Personally I think the ICS facilities at either Von Braun or Side 1 should be our top choice. Probably Von Braun, since that's under Junta control — if they are behind the Miyagi attack, the mobile suits probably came from there originally. But there is also a large Down to Earth rally coming up at Londenion soon — it could be a good opportunity to poke around and kill two birds with one stone."

Keiji spoke up next. "There's also the possibility that the attack on Miyagi was a false flag operation, whether by regular Loyalist forces or — more likely — by ECOAS. While militarily the strike was largely irrelevant, politically it was anything but: the credibility of the government-in-exile was badly undermined, after all." Of the various theories, it was the one he found most plausible; he knew better than most what ECOAS were capable of. Besides, the missing mobile suits might well have been diverted to ECOAS anyway, as Ennoshita suggested, so that trail might end up there too.

"And what of Neo Zeon?" Yamiji asked. "Like Akaashi said at the start, they stand to gain a great deal if the Earth Federation tears itself apart in a civil war."

Takeda gestured across at Misaki and Terushima. "A valid concern," he agreed, "which is why our friends from Johzenji have offered to help investigate. At one time they were part of a Neo Zeon sleeper cell, so they have a number of contacts who may prove useful."

"Assuming we can trust them," Keiji said, studying them both. "They could very easily lead us astray instead, or feed us false information."

Terushima jerked forward. "Listen, prick —"

He was cut off with a pained _oof_ when Misaki elbowed him hard in the ribs. "We've offered our help," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "You don't have to take it. But I'd like to see how a bunch of Feddie naval officers thinks they'll make contact with anyone in Neo Zeon without us. It's not like they list their contact details on social media, and even if you _did_ figure out how to contact them, they have no reason to cooperate with any of you."

"Thus far, Johzenji has helped us out a great deal," Takeda said carefully. "And we took their offer seriously enough to invite them to this meeting. Naturally, we would however expect some of our own people to accompany them in any investigation."

"And if it bothers everyone that much, we can keep it to Karasuno only," Ukai added. "Being called Neo Zeon sympathisers on top of everything else won't make much difference to us. That way the _Fukurodani_ can keep their hands clean."

An uneasy peace settled over the table. It was clear that nobody was particularly happy with the compromise — both Misaki and Terushima looked offended to be treated like pariahs, while Yamiji, Bokuto, and Shirofuku clearly remained suspicious. The rest varied between the two extremes, though Tanaka in particular looked anxious. But then from what Ennoshita had said, Tanaka was one of the pilots who had made the original deal with Johzenji, so he bore a degree of personal responsibility.

"I think you're making a mistake," Yamiji said finally, "but if the _Karasuno_ wants to work with them, that's your decision."

Bokuto hummed thoughtfully. "So we have four targets," he said. "Von Braun, Londenion, ECOAS, and Neo Zeon. And we have four crews, if you count Nekoma."

"Which you should," Kuroo said, grinning.

"It's like fate," Bokuto continued, turning to Keiji in excitement. "That can't be a coincidence, right?"

Keiji sighed. "Four crews but only three ships," he pointed out.

Yamiji gestured back to the map of the Earth sphere. Bolthole's location was a flashing blip, well outside Luna's orbit, though at present it was relatively close to Side 3 and not too far from Side 1 either. It was one of the reasons they'd agreed to use it as the rendezvous point — if the _Fukurodani_ had gone trekking across the Earth sphere on its own initiative, it would have raised lots of questions. Unlike the _Karasuno_ , the _Fukurodani_ was still part of a fleet, and while their current orders to patrol and observe enemy movements gave them a lot of latitude, it wasn't blanket permission to act as they saw fit.

"The _Fukurodani_ is best placed to drop teams at Luna and Side 1," Yamiji said. "Luna is officially Junta-controlled, but they're weak there, so the Rebels have been sending probing attacks to keep them off balance. And Londenion is where the government-in-exile has set up shop, so it would be nothing out of the ordinary for us to visit. Then we can collect the Luna team on the way back."

Ukai grunted in agreement. "Once we've finished repairing and resupplying, the _Karasuno_ can head in the opposite direction. Rumour has it that ECOAS have a base at Luna II. Obviously we can't waltz up to the Junta's military headquarters, but we might be able to get close enough to launch a mobile suit geared for stealthy infiltration."

"Actually..." Ennoshita said cautiously. He looked to Tanaka, who grimaced.

"My sister's with ECOAS," he said, with the sort of tone that one might use when admitting that a close family member was in fact a serial killer.

Kuroo whistled in surprise. "Now that could be useful," he murmured. "You two in contact?"

"Not since this mess started," Tanaka said, shaking his head. "And not much before that. ECOAS doesn't officially exist, so contacting anyone who's part of it is difficult."

Kozume leant forward, resting his elbows on the table. "If you give me the details, I can probably figure out a way to contact her."

Ukai studied Tanaka closely, his eyes narrowed. "Can we trust her? Would she help us?"

Tanaka met his gaze evenly. "She wouldn't betray me. Dunno whether she could help or not." He shrugged and shook his head. "There's no way she'd be part of a plan to massacre an entire colony, I know that much."

Ukai's gaze moved on to Ennoshita, seeking confirmation. "It's true," he agreed. "I met her once. Saeko is scary but she's still a Tanaka. I suspect if she knew about it, she would have tried to stop it."

"Okay," Ukai said, satisfied. "You can work with Kozume to try to contact her. In the meantime, put together a team to infiltrate the military base at Luna II."

"Me?" Ennoshita asked, alarmed.

"Unless you can suggest anyone better?"

Takeda took pity on him, folding his hands on the table with a small smile. "I'll help you plan it. Don't worry, Ennoshita."

Keiji raised his hand. "I'd like to go."

Everyone stared at him at once, but predictably Bokuto was the first to speak.

" _What?!_ But Akaashi! You're supposed to be part of _my_ team!"

Keiji shot him a hard look. "We're also supposed to be working together with Karasuno and Nekoma, and of the various theories put forth, I think this one is the most likely. I also have relevant training, remember?"

Bokuto's dejected expression — bottom lip pushed out, brows drawn together in concern, eyes wide as he pleaded silently — almost made him change his mind, but Yamiji was nodding. "If I was going to send anyone along, Akaashi would be my choice," he agreed. "He undertook some covert ops training, and though he won't — or can't — confirm or deny it, rumour has it that ECOAS tried to recruit him."

"Under the circumstances," he said, "I may as well come clean." He took a breath, gathering his thoughts, and kept his expression neutral. "They approached me near the end of my time at the academy, and I was reassigned to undertake further training with a view to joining them." With a shrug, he added, "But I changed my mind."

"Why?" Kuroo asked, before quickly amending himself. "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"Mainly because I wanted to be a mobile suit pilot, not a covert operative," Keiji replied. He elected to keep his other reasons to himself. Kuroo must have sensed his thoughts because he didn't press further.

"Well," Ennoshita said, smiling at him. "I'm not going to complain if you want to volunteer. It'll be good to have at least _one_ person along who has some clue what they're doing."

Keiji nodded back. "My pleasure."

"In that case, I recommend that Kenma, Tsukishima, and myself be part of the Von Braun team," Kuroo said.

Ukai raised an eyebrow. "Okay, why?"

"Kenma has the technical skills to extract the data we need and Tsukishima is a Von Braun native — his brother works there as a shuttle pilot, which might give us a way in." Then he grinned and lounged back in his chair, propping one arm over the back of it. "And I'd go to keep an eye on them both, naturally."

"Then I want to lead the Londenion team!" Bokuto declared, thumping the table. "I'm a sort-of-famous ace, so that should help get people to talk to us."

Shirofuku looked from him to Keiji and raised an eyebrow. He knew exactly what she was trying to ask: _If you're going to Luna II, who's going to keep an eye on Bokuto?_ But for all his ebullient excitement at times, Bokuto was not an idiot; anyone who had flown with him in combat knew he could be deadly serious when he had to be.

"That sounds like a good idea, Bokuto," he said pointedly, ignoring the way Shirofuku rolled her eyes. "But do be careful."

"Which leaves us, I guess," Misaki said, glancing at Terushima. "I've already sent out some feelers, but we'll most likely head to Palau near Side 6. We know some people there."

"I don't mind if you want to send a few people along — even a couple of mobile suits, if we can squeeze them aboard — but I get to veto anyone I don't like," Terushima added. "Which means no stuck-up Fukurodani types."

Keiji privately doubted anyone from Fukurodani would volunteer to go with them anyway, so it wasn't likely to be an issue.

"I'd volunteer, but since it's my sister we're going to meet on Luna II, I can't," Tanaka told him apologetically.

Takeda seemed amused by all the interplay. "I'm sure we'll find some acceptable candidates," he said. "And in that case, I think we have our next steps. All that remains is to finalise the details."

"And make sure we still have some pilots left to defend our ships," Ukai added wryly. "I hope this works."

 

* * *

 

"Are you feeling better yet?" Kenma asked.

"I am now that I've thrown up all that disgusting beer," Shouyou said, shuddering with the memory. "If I didn't know better, I'd say Teru was trying to poison us all."

With news of their imminent departure — and the bar's rapidly declining stock — Shouyou had finally dragged Kenma out to the 'Party Hole'. He'd assumed it was mostly another means of avoiding Kageyama, but Shouyou was quite insistent that only the two of them go. Which Kenma found interesting, though he was careful not to read too much into it.

In any case, the trip hadn't exactly been a success; it had been way too crowded for Kenma's tastes and Shouyou had reacted rather _explosively_ to the beverages. They'd quickly abandoned the idea and returned to Kenma's cabin, dropping off Shouyou's uniform tunic in the nearest laundry bin along the way.

Now Shouyou was laid out perpendicular across Kenma's narrow bed in a bizarre manner: his legs almost vertical against the bulkhead beside the bed and his head hanging over the other edge, hands folded underneath his neck. It didn't look comfortable but he didn't seem to mind. He'd shed his boots at least, dumping them by the hatch.

Kenma was sitting next to him in a more typical pose: cross-legged with his elbows on his knees, hunched over a datapad in his lap, but his attention kept drifting. Shouyou's undershirt had ridden up, revealing a sliver of bare stomach, and it was driving Kenma to distraction. No matter how much he tried to concentrate on reading, his eyes kept finding it.

"I think there are probably easier ways to kill us," he agreed, forcing his gaze away for the tenth time. "But you did have a particularly bad reaction to it. Maybe you're allergic to one of the ingredients?" Or maybe he'd got unlucky and drank some that had gone bad over the years; that was exactly why Kenma hadn't touched a drop.

Shouyou stuck his tongue into his cheek, thinking. "I don't think I'm allergic to beer. But maybe..."

"Maybe?" Kenma prompted, when he failed to continue after several seconds.

"I think it was me more than the beer," he admitted quietly, staring up at the ceiling. "I've kinda got a weak stomach."

Kenma had heard how Shouyou had thrown up both before and after his first battle, though that wasn't exactly unusual for rookie pilots. "Oh?"

Shouyou shrugged, causing his shirt to ride up a little more. "I don't like telling people about it," he said, "but since it's you... When I was younger, I had difficulty adapting to different gravity. It's an inner ear thing, apparently — in the old days, they used to call it space sickness, but now they just call it Gravitational Adaptation Syndrome. But who wants to admit they have GAS?"

He paused to grin, apparently expecting Kenma to laugh at his lame joke, but Kenma was lost in thought. He knew GAS used to be more common in first generation spacenoids, those who had emigrated to space from Earth, but was comparatively rare in people who had been born in space. It was essentially like motion sickness — severe nausea triggered by a mismatch between the body's sense of gravity changing and the lack of visual motion.

It was also a condition that made it virtually impossible to become a pilot.

"Anyway..." Shouyou went on, an uncertain edge to his voice, "um, the Bolthole's gravity feels really weird to me — apparently it's because it rotates faster than a normal colony? The gravity is still weak, but the Coriolis force is stronger or something, I dunno. So I was kinda queasy even before the beer."

Kenma couldn't care less about the beer. Instead he was making connections in his head, lots of little lamps going on like someone had plugged in a string of fairy lights. "Yet you decided to become a pilot?" he asked, intrigued. "Despite all the g-forces we get?"

Minovsky physics meant that pilots were cushioned against the worst and their pilot suits and harnesses helped alleviate it too, but even so, pulling hard turns at combat speeds put a severe strain on your body. And that was especially true of the sorts of crazy manoeuvres Shouyou liked to pull. How did he cope...?

Shouyou pulled a face. "They wouldn't let me join at first," he said. "Probably because I puked all over their simulator. I had to take another year out to train myself to get over it. It was fun, actually! I did stuff like zero-g hang-gliding, or riding a bike up and down the gravity gradient towards the spaceport at the end of the colony. And every rollercoaster I could find."

Kenma stared at him in wonder. To go through all that, powered only by sheer force of will... There was always something new and interesting with Shouyou; he never failed to surprise.

Aloud, he said, "Fun? You must have felt awful the whole time."

"Okay, it wasn't much fun at first," Shouyou said. He grinned self-consciously and moved one hand to press against his stomach. "I couldn't keep food down, so I didn't eat much, and when it got really bad I couldn't even walk straight. But I really really wanted to be a pilot, Kenma! So there was no choice — I just had to keep at it. And here I am!"

There were times when Kenma couldn't quite believe Shouyou was real. Times when he seemed too fantastical, too magical, to actually exist. And yet he was lying right there beside him, breathing real air, real blood being pumped around his body, grinning up at Kenma with a very real grin.

"And here you are," he said weakly. "I'm glad."

"Me too," Shouyou said cheerfully. "I know things haven't exactly turned out quite like I'd planned, but this is still my dream — being a mobile suit pilot on a ship, part of a team of awesome people, defending the helpless and fighting evil." He nudged Kenma with his knee. "And I'm glad you're here too, even if I'm sorry about the way it happened. Do you like it here on the _Karasuno_?"

"I guess," Kenma said, shrugging. "Though sometimes it still feels a bit like we're all refugees here." The loss of his stuff aboard the _Nekoma_ hadn't hurt as much as it had some, since his most important possessions were electronic and he kept his customised datapad with him at all times, even in the cockpit of his mobile suit. That said, there were things he missed: a few keepsakes, some actual books, and in particular a vintage games console he'd picked up while on leave. With the help of one of the technicians, he'd been able to put together an adaptor to get it to work with the _Nekoma_ 's systems. He could play the games on an emulator, of course, but there was something special, more authentic, about the real thing.

Now all that was gone, lost with the _Nekoma_. He wasn't a sentimental person by any means, and insofar as he cared one way or the other, he was grateful to have a new home aboard the _Karasuno_ , but it did bug him that he'd basically had to go begging for almost everything he now owned — even if that did only amount to some uniforms, toiletries, and a backup datapad. But it did make packing a lot easier.

"Hmm," Shouyou said, staring up at the ceiling. "I hope that feeling goes away. Hopefully you'll start thinking of this as your new home instead — just one just that you moved into in unusual circumstances, that's all." He frowned in thought, his brows coming together to create a pair of cute little creases over his nose. "Like those crabs that carry their shells with them."

"All crabs carry their shells with them, but I assume you mean hermit crabs." Kenma grinned. "But it's not quite right, is it? We'd have to be wearing the ship. Or carrying it on our backs, like snails."

Laughter bubbled out of Shouyou, making the bed vibrate. "Geez, can you imagine? I wonder how much the _Karasuno_ weighs?"

"More than you can lift, definitely."

Shouyou lifted his head just long enough to glare at him. "Hey! I bet I can lift more than you." He held up an arm and flexed it proudly, but Shouyou was lean and wiry rather than bulky, and as mesmerising as it was to watch his muscles shift under his skin, his bicep probably didn't have as much impact as he thought it did.

"I'm sure you can," Kenma said, mollifying him. "But probably not more than fifty thousand tons, right?"

He laughed again. "Maybe in zero-g." He breathed in and braced himself, as if pretending to bench press a warship, scrunching up his face with effort. "Be easier with a mobile suit," he admitted, letting his arms drop. Never one to remain still for more than a few seconds, his fingers began tapping out random beats on his ribcage. "I wish I was taking mine with me."

Kenma huffed in amusement. "An 18 metre tall combat mech is not exactly inconspicuous, Shouyou."

"I know, I know. But it'd make me feel better. I only just got my Gundam, I don't wanna leave it behind."

Shouyou's obsession with the elderly mobile suit was entertaining, if mystifying. It wasn't often that Kenma agreed with Kageyama, but in this case they were both equally puzzled over Shouyou's attachment to a mobile suit that was objectively worse than the one he previously flew in almost every respect. Its only real advantages were agility and acceleration.

With a sigh, Kenma gave up trying to concentrate on his research about Von Braun and ICS. He knew the important facts anyway and he'd have opportunity to read up on the rest during the short journey aboard the _Fukurodani_. Besides, with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi coming along, they had two native guides to help them. Switching the datapad to standby, he placed it to the side and peered down at Shouyou, trying not to dwell on the fact that the expanse of bare stomach had grown larger.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

Shouyou's tapping ceased for a few seconds before starting up again. "I dunno. Probably a bit. But I don't feel as nervous as I thought I would — mostly I'm excited. I don't even feel sick!"

"Hopefully you won't have too much to worry about," Kenma said. "It's unlikely anyone will recognise you as being from the _Karasuno_ ; they've only circulated pictures of the senior officers and you were a fresh transfer. And you'll have Bokuto with you too — he's odd, but he's reliable when it comes down to the crunch."

"Yeah, but I have a knack for finding trouble," Shouyou said, grinning. "Luckily I also have a knack for getting out of trouble."

Kenma chuckled, poking him in the side where he'd been wounded at Miyagi. "Come back in one piece this time, okay?"

Shouyou wriggled, laughing. "Hey, stop that! I'm ticklish."

"Oh?" Kenma asked, poking him a few more times — each time Shouyou would squeal and try to shimmy away. "Looks like I've stumbled on your fatal weakness."

Shouyou grabbed his hand before he could try again, staring up at him a with broad grin and bright eyes. "Okay, you found me out. But now it's only fair you tell me what _your_ secret weakness is."

"I don't have one," Kenma lied, withdrawing his hand. His racing pulse was making his fingers tremble and he pulled them into fists to hide it.

"Hmm," Shouyou said suspiciously, propping himself up on his elbows. "Your blush says otherwise."

Kenma immediately turned his head, trying to hide his face. His skin felt like he'd been sunburned, hot and sensitive.

"I know it's not your brain," Shouyou continued implacably. "You're super smart. The cleverest person I've ever met, I think."

"No I'm not," Kenma protested. "Kuroo's smarter than me. Tsukishima too, probably."

Shouyou sat up, shifting to a kneeling position. "They're book clever, but I bet you could outwit them. You're sharper," he said with utmost certainty.

"Shouyou..." Kenma whined, his blush only intensifying.

And then Shouyou struck, fingers darting forwards to tickle Kenma. He squawked and tried to bat his hands away, but he was already laughing when he tipped sideways to try to escape. Shouyou followed, looming over him and tickling his ribs mercilessly.

"Stop!" he gasped between laughs. "Shouyou, stop it, please."

Finally Shouyou relented, sitting back with a satisfied smile on his face. "I've never heard you laugh properly like that," he said. "You should do it more often. It's nice."

"Promise not to tickle me again and I'll consider it," Kenma told him, giving up on ever hiding his blush now. If he turned the lights off, it would probably illuminate the room with a scarlet glow. He couldn't quite catch his breath and it wasn't all because of the tickling.

Shouyou pursed his lips, considering. "You'll need to offer more than that if I'm to agree," he said eventually.

"You're blackmailing me?" Kenma asked, raising his eyebrows in amused surprise.

"Of course," Shouyou said, nodding eagerly. "I have you at my mercy now."

This time, Kenma struck first, nimble fingers shooting out to launch surprise attacks along Shouyou's flanks. Shouyou saw it coming, but he couldn't dodge fast enough, and he was giggling within seconds. Rather than try to escape, he counter-attacked, and it was only when Shouyou's undershirt rode up as far as his ribs that Kenma stopped, sensing a boundary he wasn't sure he was allowed to cross.

Which is how he found himself propped up over Shouyou, both panting and smiling at each other, with their hands poised ready to resume tickling.

"Guess I'm at your mercy as well," Shouyou said breathlessly. "Still worth it to hear you laugh." He reached up to brush Kenma's hair aside. "And see you smile like that."

Kenma pulled back, shocked, and Shouyou went bright red, quickly withdrawing his hand.

"Shit. Sorry Kenma, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's okay," Kenma said, hyper-aware of the fact that he was basically sitting on top of Shouyou. In his lap. And Shouyou's top had ridden up _again_ ; had he purposely worn one that was too small for him or something? Was it somehow elasticated? Did his stomach magically repel clothing?

Oh great. Now he was getting loopy, too.

But maybe loopy was exactly what he needed. His heart was pounding, thudding against his ribs, yet still not quite able to supply enough oxygen to his body, and his face felt like he'd stuffed his head into a furnace. He knew he might be about to make a huge mistake, but his brain had short-circuited. Some fuse somewhere had completely melted and now he was leaning forward again, pressing a hand against the bare skin of Shouyou's stomach. It was incredibly warm, hotter even than Kenma's cheeks, and for one insane moment he wondered whether Shouyou truly was some sort of sun creature.

Shouyou placed his own hand over Kenma's, resting there for a moment. Then he drew Kenma's touch upward, across his soft skin and the bumps of his ribs, pushing the undershirt along with it, until Kenma's hand was over his heart. It was a powerful drumbeat, a rapid percussion that pounded against his touch, racing every bit as much as his own heart was.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Kenma asked quietly, barely able to force words past the lump in his throat.

In response, Shouyou buried his other hand in Kenma's tunic and pulled him down, lifting his head to meet him halfway. Kenma nearly panicked, nearly chickened out, but Shouyou's grip was strong and the next thing he knew their lips were coming together and then he stopped thinking altogether.

Shouyou was like fire. His entire body emanated heat, red-hot against his hand and his legs, but the kiss was warm and soft and comfortable. It didn't burn, as he half expected it might. Instead it was the sort of fire you only saw in old films, where people huddled near the flames crackling in a stone fireplace, their faces rosy and red with the warmth as they sought refuge from a cold winter.

But fire could spread, and as they pulled away, an inferno ignited deep in Kenma's gut.

Shouyou opened his eyes, smiling shyly, somehow both vulnerable and satisfied. "That answer your question?" he asked, his smile ticking up at one side into a cheeky grin.

"You talk too much," Kenma told him, pushing him down and moving in for another kiss, hungrier this time. He wanted that fire for himself, didn't care if he got scorched in the process. He would gladly play Icarus here.

After an initial gasp of surprise, Shouyou reciprocated whole-heartedly, his hands coming up to rest on Kenma's waist before starting to roam further afield.

Kenma could have lost himself, nearly _did_ lose himself, in that moment. But when he let himself drop, pressing his body against Shouyou's beneath him as they kissed deeply, the sensation of their hips grinding together and Shouyou's scalding hand roaming freely over his skin, having slipped beneath his uniform... The last part of his mind that hadn't been consumed by the flames screamed for attention and pulled him back from the brink.

Breathing hard, he lifted himself up again. Shouyou tried to follow, raising his head to chase his lips, but Kenma pressed him back with one hand on his chest. Shouyou really _was_ hot to the touch now, flushed and red like he'd been sunburnt too.

"Wait, Shouyou," he said. "We shouldn't rush into anything."

Shouyou's disgruntled expression suggested he strongly disagreed, but he let himself flop back onto the bed, no longer fighting against Kenma's hand. "Why?" he asked, almost sulky.

Kenma rolled aside to lie next to him, but he left his hand where it was, warm against Shouyou's heart. "I don't want us to regret anything," he said.

"I won't!" Shouyou protested. Their faces were still very close, close enough that Kenma could feel Shouyou's hot breath on his face, see the saliva glistening on Shouyou's lips.

"You might," he said, "especially as we're about to be separated for the foreseeable future. This can be something to look forward to when you come back."

Shouyou scowled. "Aww!" he complained. "Before I was looking forward to the mission, now I'm going to want it to be over as soon as possible."

Kenma smiled, huffing with silent laughter. "It's probably just as well," he said. "It'll give us time to think about what we want."

"I thought that was pretty obvious," Shouyou said dryly.

"Was it? I wasn't sure you liked me in that way," he admitted. "You're nice to everyone, after all."

Shouyou's eyes roamed over his face, his incredulity growing as he realised Kenma was being serious. "I think of the two of us," he said, "you're the one whose hardest to read. And, you know, kinda shy. I didn't want to spook you."

Okay, he had a valid point. "Then I'm glad we both figured it out," he said. "And thank you for being so patient."

"It was worth the wait," Shouyou said, grinning.

Smiling back, Kenma rolled onto his back, wedged between Shouyou and the cool metal bulkhead. "Let's just lay here a while, okay?" he said, finding Shouyou's hand with his own and intertwining their fingers. "It's our last night on the _Karasuno_."

Shouyou relaxed beside him, sighing, and squeezed his hand. "You remember we're both going to be on the _Fukurodani_ together, right?"

"Not for long. If everything goes to plan, I'll be in Von Braun 24 hours from now."

Even like this, Kenma could feel Shouyou's warmth beside him. Now that he'd been given a taste of it, he knew he was going to miss it.

"Kenma?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, okay?" Shouyou said softly. "Make sure you come back."

Kenma shifted closer, pressing against Shouyou's body. Shouyou happily reciprocated, snuggling against him and reaching for Kenma's arm to clutch against his chest. It was like curling his body around a fireplace, cosy and warm.

"I'll come back. I promise," he said.

Because now he had something to come back _to_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 260k in and they finally get together only to get separated again. Hope you like your slow burns glacial... :)


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